Thors Officer School - ToCS1 Outside the Fairy Tale
by Wuolong77
Summary: Trails of Cold Steel 1 AU. An older and more experienced Class VII meet under the auspices of a more demanding and militarized Thors. Prince Olivert being even better at political machinations, a Third Way movement that becomes legitimately powerful. But with Osborne and Ourobouros around, it will only result in the antagonists taking out the big guns earlier. (Ch1 edited.)
1. Serious Selection

**Thors Officer School, ToCS Outside the Fairy Tale**

**A/N: Hello, this is my first Legend of Heroes story, so I'd like to establish some ground rules.**

**Edit(21/02/2020): First chapter has been shortened by roughly 2000 words to make it more accessible.**

**This fic assumes that the reader has played the entirety of ToCS1 and ToCS2 including the New Game+ secrets. This story is going to be mostly original content. I only plan to follow the plot of ToCS1 on a very rough approximation, which is why I will draw from the entirety of Kiseki lore. That means minor spoilers for the Sky Trilogy, Zero Duology (I played the official Chinese localization) and few very minor facts from ToCS3. I won't touch on any big plot points or major political upheavals outside the first two ToCS games (and if I slip up you are free to lambaste me), but if that is still too spoilery for you, then this story is probably not for you (yet). **

**I am always open to constructive criticism. If I make a genuine error, please tell me about it so I can correct it. if you don't like a plot point or something to that effect, I will at least consider your opinion as long as you convey it in a mature way. Keep in mind though that regarding plot points, character relations and story structure, I have the final say. I will read your opinion, but I don't have to agree with it. **

**Now that the boring stuff is out of the way, let's get this party started.**

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**Chapter 1 - Serious Selection**

Rohan Imperial Villa was the smaller and far less known counterpart of Karel Imperial Villa. It was a mansion with elegant but conservative architecture hidden away on a forested hill northwest of Trista. The building expressed dignity and grace as befitting of Erebonian Nobility, but it lacked the scale or sheer artistry of its cousin villa. It was modest in its opulence. As such even a viscount of good standing could have afforded the building. Were it not for the banner of imperial crimson and the golden stallion denoting the identity of its true owners, most nobles probably wouldn't have deemed it more than a smidgen of polite interest.

Only a select few were aware this lack of notoriety made Rohan Imperial Villa a favorite spot for back room politicking of a very special kind: the kind of politicking designed to escape the notice of the usual back room politicians.

As Olivert Reise Arnor straightened his cravat he couldn't help but regard his father with gratitude in his mind. Their differing opinions when it came to Erebonia's dear Chancellor had always been a point of contention in an otherwise amicable and even warm relationship. But despite the Emperor claiming that Giliath Osborne enjoyed his full trust, he made exactly zero moves to obstruct Olivert's own plans.

And then there were occasions like this, when it felt like his father was actively encouraging him. He was provided with the key and security protocols of an off-the-book mansion, delivered to him with an almost cheeky note. It stated that even the all-knowing Chancellor shouldn't be aware of this particular place.

There was no guarantee, but Olivert wasn't about to lose any sleep over that. When dancing with the monster there couldn't be any guarantees.

Even assuming they existed was a weakness.

The Conference room they resided in was a battlefield of documents. Dossiers, essays and financial reports were scattered carelessly over a heavy table made of polished oak with a glimmering finish of Esmelas-infused bee wax. The floor was littered with emptied plastic bottles and packages. They formerly contained energy drinks as well as high caloric protein bars. Their taste was middling at best, but they allowed the six occupants in the conference room to brave a marathon meeting which had already spanned two days.

He saw Lieutenant General Vander take a heavy puff from his cigar, inhaling the smoke and hoping in vain that the mild stimulants would keep his exhaustion at bay. At least the sepith-coated oak-table forced the air in the room to continuously circulate. Otherwise some of them would have fallen asleep long ago.

"Want another energy drink, general?" A female voice offered.

The speaker was a seemingly young woman whose attire was clearly at odds with the other uniformed individuals. Her clear, focused gaze also seemed impervious to fatigue. Honey-blond hair was tied in a simple ponytail which flowed over the front of her right shoulder, framing a truly lovely face with high cheekbones, sky-blue eyes and a dimpled smile. Her clothes were for the most part non-descript and functional: a blue turtleneck sweater, a maroon skirt that reached her ankles and red sneakers. The only notable piece was the white lab-coat marking her as a researcher.

"I mean no offense Lady Russel, but I fear the special nourishment you brought has lost its effectiveness."

Professor Erika Russel, genius inventor and daughter of legendary Epstein disciple Albert Russel sighed heavily. "Could you guys drop the 'Lady Russel' part? It makes me sound like some old maiden. Besides, you can come out and say that the ZCF smart food tastes like ass."

Olivert let out an amused chuckle. "Truly, were it not for your beautiful visage and your skill in everything orbal one would never guess you are the mother of dear, sweet Tita."

She scrunched her face which was so very reminiscent of one of the good friends he made in Liberl, minus the baby fat. "Well, I certainly never expected a member of the Imperial family to be quite so free-spirited. And to invite little old me to be part of your conspiracy."

"You are aware my original request was directed towards your father?"

Erika sneered. "Of course I am aware, but that scatterbrained old coot can't keep a secret even if his life depends on it."

Mueller Vander, his eternal bodyguard, furrowed his considerably thick brows. "Forgive me for asking Lady Russel, but wasn't your father the one who developed Liberl's combat aircrafts? Given his experience, shouldn't he be familiar with military protocol and the requirements of confidentiality?"

Wasn't this a very insightful question? Just what he expected from his old quick-witted friend. And look, beautiful Erika's expression turned stormy, a stink-face worthy of Estelle herself.

"That old coot certainly contributed a lot, but he was hardly the only one responsible for creating combat-worthy aircrafts. Back then the whole of Zeiss Central Factory was working like a single well-oiled machine. We toiled and sweat like our lives depended on it," and here she glared at every member of the Erebonian military, "because that was quite literally the case."

Seems like Mueller's inquiry opened up some old wounds. The trauma the Erebonian military inflicted on the Liberlian psyche during operation 'Falcon Killer' was an act which shall rightfully haunt his fellow countrymen for years to come.

"To answer your question, Major Vander, the issue is the time frame: The aircraft development was pushed through in the middle of the Hundred Days War and the machines were directly fielded into battle without the usual quality control or any kind of preliminary testing. It was basically an act of desperation. As such there was simply no time for that old coot and his loose lips to deal any kind of damage."

She then turned his gaze towards him, spearing him with her intensity. "Your 'Third Way' plan on the other hand is much longer in scale. Every secret, especially about orbal development, is in danger of being blabbed out, if Professor bloody Russel had been entrusted with them. If you had ever seen him bragging during the annually Zemurian Congress of Orbal Science you would know how foolish your initial decision was. So be thankful I corrected it beforehand."

The little gathering Olivert called together consisted of some of the mightiest warriors the Erebonian nation had to offer. Mueller Vander, the young ace of the 7th Armored Division. Lieutenant General Zechs Vander, the leading officer of the famed 3rd Armored Division. Tristan Vandyck, honorary general of the Imperial Army and last but not least Victor S. Arseid, the strongest swordsman of the Empire. But despite the concentrated fighting prowess, nearly all of them were stunned into silence by the sheer brazenness and irreverence the young researcher just displayed.

Olivert of course gave her a warm round of applause. It was only fair exchange for the impromptu piece of history which was certainly nowhere to be found in any kind of Erebonian chronicle. "Bravo, bravo, your boldness is truly an inspiration. I think you could even give chairwoman Irina Reinford a run for her money."

Erika smirked. She probably even took his backhanded insult as a compliment. "Thank you for your kind words, Prince Olivert. Mrs Reinford certainly is a woman I approve of."

Victor Arseid chuckled. "I grew up with classes about the fathers of the Orbal Revolution during Sunday School, reading about their endless innovations, their unparalleled genius. As such listening to you dressing down your own father is quite an eye-opening experience. I guess the old saying still holds true: there is no hero to his valet."

Mueller let out a suffering sign. "Isn't that true."

"As welcome as this short revelry is, I think it's in all our interest to continue this meeting." Principal Vandyck folded his arms in front of his massive barrel chest. "We are almost at the finishing line. The last major agenda will be to finalize the selection of students who are to be part of the ARCUS program."

So onward with the tedious discussions. "Agreed. Erika, have you brought your aptitude estimates?"

"I have, though I wonder why you assigned me a task that should have been completed ages ago."

"Oh, it has already been done," he said. "We just don't trust the results."

Erika narrowed her eyes. "You want a second opinion from an independent source."

It was always such a pleasure to work with people who were quick on the uptake.

"That's it exactly, Lady Russel", Vandyck answered in a gravelly voice. "I also have here a copy of the aptitude tests done by orbal-physiologists of the Reinford Group's 4th Developmental Division. This is the initial estimate."

The copies of the different reports were swiftly distributed. The occupants in the room perused them for a while until Zechs Vander let out a gusty sigh. "This is worse than we anticipated."

Olivert couldn't help but agree with his former master.

"How can there be such a difference?" Victor murmured. "These scientists from the Reinford group, don't they have any pride in their profession? To be complicit in this kind of base deception."

"Whoa, Viscount Arseid. There is no reason to jump to conclusions here," Olivert pleaded.

The Radiant Blademaster shook his head. "As a swordsman it's second nature to take the measure of another person in an instant. Lady Russel here is without doubt highly skilled and supremely driven in her chosen field. Were she someone pursuing the path of the sword, I imagine her to be a most formidable opponent. Nevertheless, when it comes to reaching mastery of skills be they martial or mundane, a person's spirit resonates in accordance. During our meeting here, Lady Erika has repeatedly shown her skill and pride in being a researcher, a woman of science, someone dedicated to the pursuit of objective truth. I cannot fathom her ever betraying this pride for some hidden agenda."

And here the Viscount was, displaying his frightening insight clothed in the essence of Erebonian chivalry. The Radiant Blademaster truly was one of a kind.

"Aren't you a charmer, Viscount Arseid." Erika was smiling, her cheeks slightly tinted with red. "I will give it to you - if only for a moment you actually made me regret being a married woman which is no mean feat. My hubby is very strong, kind and dependable."

Victor returned her warm smile with his own. "I will take it as a compliment."

Olivert decided here and then to ask the man for advice on charming women after their meeting was over. He was watching a master at work and even if the Viscount's tactics should be of no use to him – flirtation was an art most subtle after all – his inquiry should be more than sufficient to rile up dear old Mueller and his stuffy sensibilities.

Vandyck chuckled. "As fascinating as it is to watch you seduce a married woman, Victor, we are at something of an impasse. You make a strong argument for Lady Russel's trustworthiness. Still, I feel like I cannot in good conscience _completely_ disregard the Reinford Report. Due to the discrepancy in the prospective student's placement I suggest we find a compromise in the ranking."

Olivert nodded. "Unfortunate, but probably necessary. I may be the chairman on the board of directors at Thors, but my position is traditionally more ornamental in nature. If I go ahead with Lady Erika's ranking, I will have to justify my decision in front of the directors and some of Erebonia's military top brass. I fear telling them I trust the words of a ZCF researcher over my own country's experts to push a ranking, which heavily favors commoners, will earn me a good deal of ill will - even though it's true."

Zechs Vander shrugged. "I am in agreement, but Lady Russel seems to have some additional...insight?"

All men in the room turned to the female researcher who was leafing through the pages of the Reinford report with frantic speed, while tipping on a handhold calculator. Her lips were moving tonelessly and she looked for all intents and purposes dead to the outside world.

"I got it!" She cried out. Then she looked up to the other persons gathered in the room, pinning them with a feverish gaze.

"From your reaction I guess you found the reason for the discrepancy?" Mueller asked.

"Yes. It's pretty easy."

Olivert sighed good-naturedly and braced himself. "Oh boy, here she comes."

"The aptitude ranking is based on three main measurements: A scan of whole-body nerve oscillation frequency, a spiritogramm and finally the blood-works. The aptitude for ARCUS orbments is mainly determined by two sub-factors: Above average neurological activity in the Theta-range determined through brain EEG and above average affinity for the Mirage element determined through the amount of certain blood factors. You still follow?"

He nodded. This was pretty fundamental knowledge. The others in the room followed his motion albeit with some hesitation.

"Now obviously, I didn't do any of the measurements myself. My ranking is the result of the same base data as the one the idiots at the Reinford Group tried to feed you. Therefore, the discrepancy should be a difference in _how_ we interpreted the initially measured data. Here is where it gets interesting, because the formulae they used to calculate aptitudes and affinities are exactly the same I used, following state-of-the-art recommendations from the Epstein foundation."

Olivert raised one single eyebrow. "So what? Did the Reinford researchers bumble up their math?"

Erika shook her head, her expression a study in unveiled disgust. "Nothing so amateurish, though in a way, what they did was far more deplorable. They introduced a fictional blood component."

Victor Arseid blinked owlishly. "A fictional blood component?"

The researcher sighed. "It's called the Noble Blood Factor and it's what happens when social class politics try to push their agenda under the mantle of objective science." She stood up and started pacing.

"The idea was introduced eight years ago by some Erebonian researchers. They proposed that every Erebonian noble's blood contained a component which raised their affinity for space and mirage, sometimes called the noble elements. Following their hypothesis they tried to isolate this supposed blood factor. Ironically, it lead to great contributions of those scientists in understanding how various enzymes and hormones served as markers and predictors for elemental affinity. But to make a long story short: they never found a blood factor which truly matched their neat little story of noble supremacy."

She continued her speech.

"There are factors indicative of high mirage and space affinity, but they are found in every human's blood stream. The concentration which determines strength of affinity is also all over the place irrespective of social status. There is a very rare blood factor exclusive to the Arnor Imperial Family and the Cayenne Noble Lineage, but it's not indicative of an exclusive mirage or space affinity, so that ended up a bust, too."

Olivert's mind was racing frantically. He wasn't aware of this similarity between his family and the Cayennes. Something to keep in mind. "Interesting. Basically the Noble Blood Factor couldn't be proven, but the researchers at Reinford still pretended it exists. As long as a student is a noble they automatically have an initial and undeserved edge in their space and mirage affinity, resulting in this heavily biased ranking."

"Exactly. It was your Professor Schmidt who put the final nail in the coffin. Three years ago he underwent a cooperation with two Remiferian medical experts. They discovered quite a lot of stuff, even formulated a biochemical theory of sepith-haemoglobin complexes and its resonance properties with the neuro-lymphatic system."

Wow, this was stuff even he couldn't follow. And he tried his best to keep abreast of new scientific developments on combat orbments. It was his most potent weapon.

"Professor Schmidt's theory fitted all data up to the point, but also contradicted the notion that social class determines arts affinity... that is, without a very strong focus on eugenic policies, which doesn't really exist in any society, thank Aidios. Shortly after, talking about the Noble Blood Factor during a scientific conference has turned into a good way to be laughed out of the room."

Vandyck stroked his beard. "I won't pretend to completely follow your explanation, Lady Russel. But the initial ranking given to us goes against current scientific consensus, no?"

"Pretty much."

"And am I also correct to assume that Professor Schmidt's rebuttal against this Noble Blood Factor theory is well documented?" Vandyck continued.

Marvelous. Trust Thors' principal to cut to the heart of the matter.

"Of course. Most research papers in the scientific community are freely available. As long as we are not bound by contracts and stipulations on confidentiality we tend to openly communicate our experimental results." Erika grinned. "Scientists love to brag."

The men in the room looked at each other, before nodding as one. Olivert smiled. "In that case, I see no problem going along with Erika's ranking. Dearest Mueller, can I entrust you the task of procuring the needed research papers to prove the Reinford researcher's detestable subterfuge? Presenting them to the board of directors and the members of the General Staff Office will certainly be most entertaining. I think the archive at the Roer Institute of Technology should prove a fruitful avenue in finding them."

"I'll see what I can do. And stop calling me 'dearest'."

"Before the two of you descend into another round of bickering," Zechs Vander said, "let's start. The list won't get done by itself."

"Agreed." Vandyck said. "I suggest we screen the top ten students with the highest ARCUS aptitude first." The principal looked at the names again and took out the first dossier in alphabetical order.

"This should be an easy one", he chuckled. "Laura S. Arseid. Intermediate rank in the Arseid school of swordsmanship. Arts affinity C+, ARCUS aptitude A-, graduated Lokis military academy in Bareahard magna cum laude. She was merited the badge of courage and friendship during her first year and the medal of strength in second year. She displayed excellent conduct during her tenure and is a natural leader. No friction with commoners. Member and later captain of the swimming club, she is also proficient in horseback combat. Took advanced electives in small scale assault tactics, military history and logistics. Finished them all with excellent marks. She scored 23th out of 200 on the entrance exam for Thors, reached 307 points on the Manway physical fitness index, placing her square in the top 0,1 percentile of military personnel throughout the Empire. Her chosen academic major at Thors is economics."

Victor laughed softly. "As her father, I can't be more proud of her, but I will abstain from the voting process. I _am_ heavily biased."

The other occupants in the room joined him in his mirth. "You have raised a worthy successor, Viscount Arseid," Zechs said. "And no matter which Class she attends at Thors, I think Matteus will be delighted to work with her."

Mueller smiled one of his rare smiles. "You actually managed to snatch father away from the Imperial guard, Principal Vandyck?"

"Indeed, though far from full time. He will visit Thors for three intensive weekend courses over the school year. Still, I am sure the students will greatly benefit from his guidance." Vandyck looked around the room. "So I guess Laura S. Arseid shall be nominated the first prospective student of Class VII?"

"Aye!"

The next two dossiers passed quickly albeit with difficulties. Jusis Albarea had excellent grades and recommendations, but Victor of all people spoke out against the bastard son of Duke Albarea. His daughter Laura knew him personally and acording to her he was something of a loner. Elliot Craig's dossier only showed average grades and his artistic leanings weren't exactly military, though his arts affinity was prodigious. Still, after he held a passionate speech on behalf of Jusis and some gentle prodding to steer the others in favor of Elliot, both were chosen to become Class VII members.

As a bastard himself, it only felt right to give the Albarea heir a chance. And young Craig was a fellow musician who had become something of minor celebrity in Heimdallr. He was one of the main instigators of a joint project between the Orchestra Club of Odins Military Academy and the Heimdallr Academy of Music. It resulted in a concert played during the Solstice Festival last year in Valflame Palace with Vita Clotilde herself doing the vocals. A performance that even impressed his father.

Olivert clapped his hands once. "Three down, more to go. Principal Vandyck, which letter of the alphabet is the next dossier?"

"The letter G."

"In that case, I would like to make a special recommendation." He took out a dossier embossed in red. As expected, the men at the table tensed seeing it as the classified file it was. "Erika, this dossier touches upon national secrets of a political nature. I am aware you can keep your silence, but the mere knowledge of what's about to be disclosed could put you into the cross-hairs of the Imperial Intelligence Agency."

"In other word, my lack of knowledge is supposed to be a protection." Erika scowled. "But aren't you underestimating me, Prince?" She speared him with her intense gaze and he suddenly felt like an insect under the scrutiny of a looming microscope.

"I have passing knowledge of the true reason behind the Hundred Days War." All military personnel in the room flinched. "I am also aware of Ouroboros. As one of the lead engineers of ZCF I have the express permission of Queen Alicia II to try to match the Society's ridiculous technological supremacy. At this point, Prince, do you really think some dirty laundry from Erebonian politics is going to make much of a difference?"

Victor placed a hand on his shoulder. "Give it up, Prince. She is too headstrong for you."

Olivert dipped his head in theatrical defeat. "What an utter and complete loss. If Tita grows up to be like you, she will end up the most formidable engineer in the whole of Zemuria."

Erika smirked, her face aglow with motherly pride. "Of course she will be. This is my sweetheart we are talking about. Now come on. This meeting is already dragging on. I am curious what kind of student dossier even deserves to be classified."

Olivert opened the folder. "Before I begin, this was on Instructor Valestein's insistence. Allowing this individual to be put up for deliberation is one of two conditions for her working on Class VII." He inhaled deeply. This was going to be interesting.

"Fie Clausell, adoptive daughter of Rutger Clausell, deceased leader of Zephyr, aka the 'Jaeger King'. Place of birth unknown. Date of birth, unknown. Biological parents, unknown. Estimated age: 16. No formal fighting style. No formal education. Arts affinity C, ARCUS aptitude B+. Her entrance exam for Thors was waved. She reached 233 points on a standardized assessment exam for general knowledge, slightly above average for Erebonian citizens 18 years of age with mere Sunday School education. Reached 320 points on the Manway physical fitness index, placing her in the top 0,01 percentile. Further combat demonstrations and advanced written tests on combat subjects at Thors revealed her to possess applied knowledge in squad assault tactics, ambush tactics, stealth, tracking, survival, infiltration and ordinance handling on the level of second year graduates. She further demonstrates applied knowledge of ballistics, anti-arts combat, sniping, interrogation and sabotage on the level of first year graduates with respective specializations. Beside her chosen weaponry, dual hybrid gun-knifes, she is proficient in all ranged personnel weapons that are military issue up to class C heavy weapons."

He paused to take a breath. "Our knowledge of her...history with Zephyr is fragmented at best. Her codename is Sylphid. What can be verified is that she partook in her first combat operation five years ago. Eye-witness reports combined with intelligence from the internal Jaeger network places her involvement in nearly all 45 combat operations conducted by Zephyr from then until their disbandment four month prior. According to interviews with Instructor Valestein and other eye witnesses, the corps has abandoned Fie Clausell and has actively cut all ties with her.

Major contributions she performed according to an annex from the IIA include a successful infiltration of Juno Naval Fortress and subsequent sabotage of the fortresses' internal orbal energy network. It allowed 'Operation Seagull' conducted by the Lamarre Provincial Army to go without a hitch. Another noteworthy accomplishment was a multi-pronged ambush assault Zephyr performed against a rival corps named Fenrir. She was made temporary squad leader and slaughtered the enemy Fenrir unit to the last man and woman. That despite one-to-three numeric superiority on the enemy's side and without a single casualty. Last but not least was Zephyr's involvement during the Jester-incident. One of the rare occasions of Bracer-Jaeger cooperation facilitated by none other than Cassius Bright. Zephyr managed to anticipate and prevent the bombing of the Bracer Guild branch in Saint-Arkh. Following the exposure, she successfully shadowed and tracked the Jester unit to one of their major hideouts, allowing the Bracer task force to rout a full third of their units and decapitate part of the leadership.

As the annex suggests, Fie Clausell merits her own independent dossier managed by the Imperial Intelligence Agency. Her current threat rating is 3, one below every Zephyr squad leader and two below the Jaeger King himself who was rated a threat to Erebonian national security until his demise. This threat rating is according to their footnotes an _underestimation_. 27 out of 45 Zephyr combat operations were conducted outside Erebonian borders. As such, she probably has additional noteworthy contributions under her belt which the IIA is not privy to."

Shocked silence.

Vandyck was the first to regain his composure. "I am aware of her case. Her attendance at Thors is already highly irregular and I am also aware of her former affiliation with Zephyr, but certainly not the particulars." He shook his head, suddenly looking his true age as if the years were weighing down on him. "What a peculiar young lady. She is a war veteran with the body and mind of a sixteen year old girl, no pardon me, a sixteen year old woman."

Zechs still looked flabbergasted. "Operation Seagull happened two years ago. She infiltrated an Imperial fortress located in the middle of the sea when she was fourteen? And followed it up with a successful sabotage of critical infrastructure?" He buried his face in his hands. "I wasn't even aware there was Jaeger involvement during the Lamarre Succession Skirmish."

Mueller sneered. "Probably just the way the Provincial Army wanted it, uncle. Imagine this becoming public knowledge. It would detract from their glory." He sighed. "To be honest Olivert, I don't have the foggiest clue how you even procured these intelligence reports, considering who the IIA ultimately answer to. Still, this Fie Clausell compares favorably to another infiltrator we know of."

"You aren't the only one who made the comparison, dear Mueller, though I don't think she quite reaches _his_ level." He shrugged. "To wit, dear gentlemen, what do we do with this killer kitten?"

"Prince Olivert," Victor's voice carried an irritated edge, "your verbiage doesn't exactly evoke a positive image."

He laughed without remorse. "At the moment Instructor Valestein is her official guardian, so I've already met her. She really is as cute as a kitten."

"Any further impressions?" Victor asked in a dry voice. "Aside from her… cuteness."

Seems like the others were thirsty for more information before committing to a decision, although Victor seemed offended. Well, chivalry and Jaeger ethics went as well as cold water on hot oil.

"Withdrawn. Almost apathetic. And considering her past, she is also surprisingly non-threatening."

Zechs leaned forward on the table. "Non-threatening? Please elaborate, my Prince."

"How to say it delicately. Oh well, usually people who are trained to kill display a certain edge in their body-language. Frankly gentlemen, all of you give off this vibe, more or less, if one knows where to look."

Vandyck stroked his beard. "Military life will do that to you, as long as one doesn't shoot to become an armchair general." He narrowed his eyes. "So young Fie doesn't display this edge?"

"Curiously enough, she doesn't. I even watched a practice fight between her and instructor Valestein. She seems, how to put it, detached from the violence. No intent at all, like going through the motions."

Mueller scratched his head. "Honestly, I am understanding her less and less."

"Was she matching the instructor during the fight?" Victor asked.

Now it was Olivert's turn to scratch his head. "Not exactly. This is instructor Valestein we are talking about. She could give almost anyone in this room the fight of their lives. But little Fie wasn't getting overwhelmed either." He shrugged. "Both of them were holding back anyway."

"I vote yes."

All of them looked askance at the Radiant Blademaster.

"This is surprising, Viscount Arseid," Zechs stated. "I got the impression you didn't like this recommendation at all."

"Your impression is correct. I don't approve of Jaegers and their bloody trade. However, people change and this young woman seems to be at a crossroads in her life. Besides, if I were to detest all people with Jaeger affiliation I should also lambaste our Prince about his choice of Class VII's combat instructor, shouldn't I?"

Olivert suppressed a chuckle. He knew of course that Victor gave his full support to Sara Valestein, a woman who turned her life as a Jaeger around to pursue the path of a Bracer. Victor made his sympathy for the Bracer profession and lifestyle well-known when he voiced a passionate protest against Chancellor Osborne's parliamentary bills to curtail the Guild's presence in the Empire. It was a move which surprised a fair amount of Erebonian high society due to Victor Arseid's tendency to stay apolitical. Olivert actually got to know the Radiant Blademaster on a personal level by joining him in his protest. The subsequent cooperation stemming from that fateful meeting has continued to reap benefits until now, with no signs of stopping.

Mueller sighed. "We have at least one yes vote. I guess you are also backing her, Olivert?"

"I'm on the fence for once. I may have put her dossier forward, but I'm a mere messenger."

Zechs folded his arms. "If I understand correctly Fie Clausell's attendance at Thors, irrespective of which Class she ends up in, is already a done deal. How was this even approved?" He turned a questioning gaze towards Vandyck.

"It was on the insistence of certain members of the General Staff Office. I suspect some of them want to fast-track her in becoming a combat instructor."

Mueller made a noise of recognition. "Let me guess, Brigadier General Gneisenau is one of those interested in her."

Vandyck nodded. "You seem to have a clearer understanding of the situation than us, young Vander. Would you care to elaborate?"

Mueller nodded sharply. "Of course, Sir. Brigadier General Gneisenau is pushing for a new kind of combat doctrine. He wants to elevate the role of Infantry from mere support units deployed around armored vehicles or artillery into a potent force of their own. It basically means restoring the Infantry's former importance on the battlefield. The idea is to use a combined arms approach solely focused on foot-soldiers. His chosen name are Sturmtruppen – or stormtroopers. It has some sympathizers in the Ministry of Defense due to the cheaper cost compared to fielding bigger tanks in higher numbers."

Mueller folded his arms, his voice turning frosty. "Of course, this combined arms doctrine isn't anything new. Elite Jaeger corps like Red Constellation, the Northern Jaegers or Zephyr have been practicing and refining this approach for roughly a decade. Still, elite Jaegers are hardly a good baseline for the average Erebonian foot-soldier."

Zechs grunted. "It seems your superior plans to shoot for the position of general, nephew. That he does so on the back of a sixteen year old woman with a half-cooked doctrine, which could get a lot of soldiers killed, is something I find distasteful. This is enough reason for me to put her in Class VII. As long as Prince Olivert's Third Way plan goes off, Fie Clausell should have a shot at determining her own way in life. Even if she continues to live off war, her unique experience will better serve the combat doctrine behind Class VII."

Vandyck nodded. "I concur and also vote yes. I also thank you for sharing your in-depth knowledge, young Vander. It seems I'm being kept out of the loop these days about the true machinations of the General Staff Office. The curse of retirement I fear."

"One question, gentlemen," Erika said, "what is this combat doctrine behind Class VII all about?"

Another one of her pointed questions. Olivert decided to humor her. "To prepare the prospective cadets for their role in the Third Way, we designed a curriculum which combined the best aspects of Thors education with a training program for Junior Bracers. This is one of the reasons I wanted Sara Valestein, an A-Rank Bracer, as their main instructor."

The Liberlian researcher narrowed her eyes. "How does this even work? No, how did it even get approved? My husband told me about the way the Guild and the military are always at loggerheads."

The Imperial Prince shrugged with an exaggerated motion. "Very true. In case of the beast which is the Erebonian military, their distaste for the Bracer Guild is particularly pronounced. That's why I had to give some of Erebonia's top brass a bit of enticement for them to fall in line."

Erika's face took on a hard edge. "Enticement?", she asked coldly, her harsh tone ordering him to continue.

"I asked Principal Vandyck to help me draw up the doctrine for a new version of elite unit. Highly trained, extremely intelligent youngsters skilled in various academic fields, fighting styles and field abilities, their different talents combined into a single flexible unit. Instead of funneling the bright minded cadets towards a career of staff officers, like current tradition demands, the idea is to shape them into a small, but very powerful squad. They are required to accomplish extremely complex and demanding missions behind enemy lines and to adapt to ever changing conditions and mission parameters. This kind of squad can operate on speeds that frankly, a conventional army could never match. In the end, the ARCUS orbments are merely a measure to accelerate and streamline the process. As for the name, we decided to call them Special Forces."

Erika's voice turned so cold, it send shivers down Olivert's spine. "I see. So a cross between Bracers and Jaegers but beholden to the chain of command of the military, backed by their considerable resources."

"This is a good approximation," he said delicately, not sure why she seemed… let's call it distressed. And intent on clobbering him.

"You have done something very dangerous, Prince." The researcher pronounced every word. "This idea of Special Forces is very much like a newly invented weapon of war. As an engineer, when developing new means for my fellow humans to kill each other, the moment I publish the blue print, the usage of said blue print is out of my hands. Even if I wished otherwise. This Bracer-Jaeger mix you thought up will end up the same. If your plan goes well, the youngsters in Class VII will use the power given to them to make your ideals a reality. This doctrine will be in the open though, usable and abusable by all manners of people sitting in military positions, no matter the nation."

The door to the conference room opened and Viscount Arseid's old retainer Klaus stepped in. He performed a graceful bow. "My lady, gentlemen. I have prepared some local cuisine from Legram. While I am not as proficient as the Arseid household's designated cook, I believe this old fox still has some culinary tricks up his sleeves. Would you care for a short food break?"

"Thank you for your work, Klaus," Victor spoke hastily, intend on dispelling the heavy atmosphere. "This is most welcome. We had a row of harrowing discussions."

The old retainer's eyes twinkled. "Oh? I hope you gentlemen didn't come to blows."

Olivert laughed. "Hardly, retainer Wallenstein. If the individuals present decide to duke it out, this villa would turn into shambles in short order."

Zechs gave a weak smile. "Don't even joke about it my Prince. But as far as real food is concerned? Count me in."

* * *

The short food break ended up lasting almost two hours. Klaus had prepared rainbow trout fillet with a delicious sauce of white wine, lemon and custard milk, finished with equal measures of red and black pepper. Freshly baked rye bread accompanied the main course as well as a plate of wild vegetables. Mostly diced forest carrots and burdock, mixed with herbs and a small shot of dark vinegar.

The red tea Olivert was sipping was brewed to perfection with a dash of goat milk giving it the kind of mouth feel he preferred. Enjoying tea this way was an old Nord custom, something his master learned from the nomads during his 'exile' at Zender Gate. Truly, were it not for the various political problems plaguing his homeland he would consider Erebonia a very pleasant nation to live in, with a great variety of food and culture just begging to be explored and enjoyed. Unfortunately, it was an old land, very set in its way, the soil suffused with blood and iron.

After their filling meal, which was very light on the stomach, the people present made some light conversation. Olivert felt storm clouds brewing inside his mind though. Erika's astute prediction was weighing on his conscience. He had invested so much in his idea, this wind of change - a moniker he liked to use in the privateness of his mind. The negotiations, the careful haggling, favors accumulated over years, harvested like wheat. In the end Class VII became something utterly unique in his mind, a singular project that won't be repeated any time soon.

How foolish of him.

He wanted the mixing of social classes to be a trailblazer, but how did he overlook that there were other aspects of Class VII to inspire imitation? It was actually worse, because the combat doctrine he drew up was useful for every nation as long as his proof of concept met with success. And he was disinclined to hope otherwise. The vanguard for the Third Way needed all the power and skills it could get. It would just be a toothless lion otherwise, nice to parade around, but without any true bite.

He allowed himself a self-derisive smile. Seems like he had a long way to go. Someone like Erika was able to immediately grasp the consequences of innovation on an international scale. Surely the result of her background as a renowned scientist. Truly admirable and something he should strive to emulate.

No man was an island. In the same vein, no nation was an island, at least not on Zemuria.

He smiled again, this time without any self depreciation. Nothing to be done but continually sharpening his wit. He wasn't going to perform such a blunder again.

After another round of pleasant conversation the group returned to the conference room, intent on finishing the last bit of deliberations to make Class VII a reality.

The next dossiers turned out to be short affairs and were quickly rejected. One Rosine Guenther and Hugo Kleist. Both had solid grades and aptitudes, but Rosine lacked any outstanding accomplishments and social connections, while Hugo's commitment was even more in doubt than Elliot's. The cadet insisted on commuting to Trista from Heimdallr, splitting his time and attention between his company and Thors from the onset.

The next one turned out to be mighty interesting though.

"Emma Millstein," Vandyck read in his gravelly voice. "Parents Sigmar and Lisa Millstein. From a remote village near Saint-Arkh. Arts affinity S, ARCUS aptitude S, only general Sunday school education. Due to lack of any combat ability or training, she was assigned to the Orbal Staff program. Scored 1st out of 200 on the entrance exam for Thors, reached 156 points on the Manway physical fitness index, placing her slightly below the physical requirements for military service. Has procured additional certificates from the Imperial Academy in Heimdallr in orbal physics, orbal chemistry, biology, linguistics and general history. Scored almost full points on all certificate exams. Her chosen academic major at Thors is Orbal science."

Again, there was silence. "Sir," Zechs began, "these certificates are usually taken by people without higher education who gained their knowledge through years of work experience, if I remember correctly?"

Vandyck nodded.

"Is this young woman eighteen?" Victor asked.

Another nod.

There was again silence.

Mueller pinched the bridge of his nose. "I would like to say she's a spy, but I can't imagine any intelligence agency being this blatant. This almost veers into stupidity."

He grinned. "We can always take it at face value."

"Seriously, Olivert?" His stalwart companion grunted. "This young women somehow acquired the equivalent of five university degrees without ever studying in one and without falling back on any notable connections or pedigree we are aware of. She also happens to have the same Arts Affinity as _you_. A member of the Arnor Blood Line. Everything screams fake here."

"But that leaves the question of how she managed to falsify all those records," Vandyck said. "Thors triple checked. And if she or her backers indeed have the power and reach to give her such credentials, which also holds up to scrutiny, why didn't they do it in a more prudent manner?"

"I feel like there is some unfathomable force guiding her actions," Victor added. "No matter the truth of her supposed accomplishments, it leads to uncomfortable conclusions. Still, I say we take her."

Olivert smiled. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?"

The Radiant Blademaster shrugged. "We are all men of a martial bend. This kind of action is par of the course."

Mueller rubbed his temples as if to stave off a headache. "I guess we should assign someone to keep an eye on her?"

"We can ask instructor Valestein," Vandyck suggested.

"I agree, but backup is always appreciated." Olivert took out a red rose, using it as an impromptu pointer. "I think I will have someone sympathetic to our cause become part of the service staff at Thors. Unobtrusively of course."

"Class VII's dormitory?" Mueller asked.

"Too obvious. I will give you the details later, dearest." Olivert took a sniff.

They continued with the dossiers, rejecting Alan Schneider, but including the graduates Alisa Reinford and Machias Regnitz into the program. It left a stale taste in his mouth. On a purely academic and physical level young Alan was as capable as the other two, although he lacked some of their recommendations. What cinched the decision was the sheer political weight behind the Reinford and Regnitz name. And due to Rufus Albarea and Governor Regnitz being on the board of directors and Jusis already in the run, dismissing Machias could damage his reputation of being an impartial force between the Noble and Reformist faction.

Erebonian politics could be so tedious.

With the top ten graduates in regard to ARCUS aptitude screened, they looked over the next ten, but their search turned out to be much less fruitful than before. Mostly scions of big shot Erebonian Nobles, even the third son of Marquis Hyarms. All of them with a penchant for treating commoners like dirt. The rest showed good grades and aptitudes, but lacked that certain 'something'.

They finally found another prospective cadet, a denizen of Nord called Gaius Worzel who graduated with honors from Baldurs military academy in Roer. He came to study in Erebonia through a run-in with his old master and Zechs Vander was full of praise for the young man, which was an accomplishment in itself. Like his father, Zechs Vander was a man who didn't impress easily. And having an outsider's perspective in his experimental class was exactly what they needed.

Olivert clapped his hands again. "Lady Erika, gentlemen, I thank you all for your momentous effort. With eight cadets carefully chosen, I think we have established a good basis to start Class VII. If there are no further additions, I would like to call this nightmare of a session closed. As much as all of us get along, we probably look forward to returning to our usual duties and loved ones again."

Laughter and agreement followed his words. Only Principal Vandyck remained serious. "I would like to make another special recommendation," the honorary general rumbled. "Seeing as all other participants of our round table discussion are ready to leave, this should be the last nasty surprise of the day."

Olivert quirked an eyebrow. "Principal, please stop to tempt fate. However, this truly must be a special student."

"I don't think I can outdo your IIA dossier on young Fie, but yes, it's a special case." He put out a thick file.

"Rean Schwarzer, adopted son of baron Teo Schwarzer. Date of birth, unknown. Place of birth unknown. Biological parents... unknown. Practitioner of the Eight Leaves One Blade School. The latest known student taken by the Sword Hermit Yun Ka-Fai himself. Arts Affinity C+, ARCUS aptitude B. Graduated Baldurs military academy in Roer magna cum laude. Was merited the badge of courage and friendship during his first year and the medal of bravery in second year. Displayed good conduct during his tenure and shows natural leadership in times of crisis. Significant friction with commoners and nobles during his first year due to his very unique heritage. No official club membership, though he was reported to have participated in over ten different clubs during his first year. According to extensive footnotes consisting of interviews with various instructors and students, he ended up the unofficial handyman of the student council. He spent a significant amount of time running errands of all kinds across campus. In that capacity, he also became a honorary member of the fishing club, the tea ceremony club, the photography club, the fencing club and the riding club.

He was, according to this extensive annex, instrumental in solving the Sachsen Mine incident along with Alisa Reinford and Towa Herschel, though his involvement was pushed to the background due to political reasons. He took advanced electives in archeology, political history, military history and cultural history. Finished them all with excellent marks. He scored 44th out of 200 on the entrance exam for Thors, reached 255 points on the Manway physical fitness index, placing him in the top 5 percentile of military personnel throughout the Empire. His chosen academic major at Thors is, unsurprisingly, history."

"An Eight Leaves One Blade practitioner." Zechs mumbled. "If we were to accept him, we could as well turn Class VII into a martial-arts exhibition."

"This sounds like a marvelous idea, master", Olivert said. "I shall discuss the possibility with instructor Valestein posthaste. All we are lacking is a Vander style practitioner. However, this can be quickly ameliorated, given that one of them is my bosom-buddy."

Mueller popped a vein. "That was sarcasm, you idiot."

Zechs sighed. "General Vandyck, Sir. I'm not sure why you put this student forward, but his ARCUS aptitude is below our agreed threshold. No matter his other accomplishments, I really don't want us to establish a precedent here. I also have serious misgivings about his focus. In wake of the Orbal Revolution, the people have been increasingly pushed to further specialization. That's simply the way of the times. This cadet seems to aim to become a generalist though which is simply not feasible anymore."

Vandyck thought for a moment. "Zechs, despite young Rean's generalist attitude, he carved a place at Baldurs on his own and it allowed him to pursue a role very similar to the Bracer portion of Class VII's curriculum. In a strange twist of fate, he, like young Fie, is already way ahead in his course work. As for focus, I posit his electives show him to be capable in this regard as well. The reason I am in a position to even make the recommendation is due to Towa Herschel making a convincing case for why a project like Class VII would be ideal for someone with his background."

"Towa Herschel?" Mueller asked. "Wasn't she one of the students participating in the trial run?"

"Exactly," Olivert said. He turned towards his master. "I am aware you are a stickler for commitment, but I understand exactly why cadet Herschel insisted on including her former junior in the mixed class system. A system she has experienced for herself no less. Think about his background: Rean Schwarzer, even more than Jusis Albarea, is someone straddling the line between commoners and nobles. The moment he was put into the noble quarters, there was no escaping his stigma of adoption. But a project like Class VII? A place with the potential to accept him as he is? You can be sure, master, that he will do his utmost to cherish and protect such a place. To make it thrive. Isn't this enough commitment?"

Zechs raised his arms in defeat. "You win Olivert, though I think your preference for Eight Leaves One Blade practitioners is shining through."

He grinned. "Master, I don't have a clue what you are talking about."

Victor rubbed his forehead. "I am really on the fence here, but with the majority already willing to include young Rean, I simply look forward to all the growth my daughter will no doubt undergo. With such an eclectic roster of cadets I feel like this will be a bountiful year."

The participants in the room slowly dispersed, though every man in the room took extra care to give their regards to Erika, praising her for her professionalism and expertise. Victor, the old charmer, even kissed her hand, which elicited a giggle from the otherwise severe woman. Vandyck bowed the deepest out of all, uttering words that surprised everybody present.

"As the supreme commander of the Erebonian troops during the Hundred Days War, I apologize for all the tragedy, destruction and suffering me and my subordinates inflicted on the Liberlian people."

Erika's expression turned stony. "General Vandyck. I am hardly representative of my countrymen and women. If you apologize to me, you would have to apologize to a ton of persons all across Liberl. The people affected by the war are endless."

Vandyck locked her square in the eye, his face set in a rictus of determination. "If this old man is ever in a position to do so, I shall act as you say and apologize to all the affected people, one by one."

Erika smiled softly. "Then help the Prince with all your might, general." She looked at Olivert and the Imperial Prince felt more than ever the importance of the task before him. "The Hundred Days War is in the past, but we need to secure the future, so that our children might grow up in true peace. Not this uneasy zero-sum game currently played between nations."

With these words, the Liberlian scientist left the mansion.

* * *

**Edit: Author rikotch pointed out in a review that not every reader may be familiar with the names of elemental Septium. I plan to go into greater detail about how orbal technology works than Kiseki canon, so these names are bound to pop up every now and then. Here's a list and a big thanks to rikotch for his commentary. **

**Earth - Amberl**

**Water - Sapphirl**

**Air - Esmelas**

**Fire - Carnelia**

**Time - Nohval**

**Mirage - Argem**

**Space - Goldia**


	2. A Day in the Life of Crow Armbrust

**Thors Officer School, ToCS1 Outside the Fairy Tale**

**I would like to thank everyone for following, reviewing or sending me a PM. The fandom is small, but it feels far more personal here. **

**Apex85: The Name I gave Vandyck was spur of the moment and I quite like it. There are no two ways about it though; it screams noble when the man really isn't one. So from now on going forward, Thors Principal shall be known as Tristan Vandyck. I have changed it in the first chapter as well. **

**As for his participation in the Hundred Days War, to the best of my knowledge ToCS1 and 2 never talked about his service record, which is a shame. Now, these are Kiseki games we are talking about, so there is always the possibility that I missed that little lore piece. Since it doesn't seem to bother you, I will leave it as it is.**

**JohnJoestar17: The first chapter was far from being a graceful introduction. Slapping a 11.000 word scene with no thematic or perspective break and heavy exposition is a really bad idea in general when it comes to novel writing. The only reason I probably get away with it is because this is Kiseki fanfiction with dedicated readers who are heavily involved in the lore. I still posted it because I've been in a creative dump for more than a year or more like four years, if I count my original fiction. I needed to put something out to get into a writing habit again. So please bear with me. **

**Millium will appear in the story. Later. Crow on the other hand...well, this chapter should answer that question. **

* * *

**Chapter 2 - A Day in the Life of Crow Armbrust**

One of the main benefits, Crow decided, about attending Thors were the female dress uniforms. There was something about the cut, this mixture of severity and femininity that tickled his fancy. The epaulets which accentuated the delicacy of the women's shoulders, the tight skirt, the officer's hat, placed stylishly to the side. Yeah, definitely a step up compared to the uniforms at Odins military academy. The girls there looked like, well, girls with those pleated skirts and the puffy shoulders.

But here at Thors, the females actually looked like _women_.

Mostly.

The woman sitting behind the office table, which looked like a fortress made of paper, was wearing one of those dress uniforms in the green color of a commoner. She managed to look almost sexy while donning female clothes oozing adult charm.

Almost being the crucial word.

But even clothed in attire which on any other woman would challenge his self-control, Towa Herschel still challenged his self-control – namely an irresistible desire to snatch away her cadet hat and give her a nice head rub. All so he can rub it in her face that she only reached his chest. Given that women tended to grow in height in their early teens, she was probably doomed to stay a pipsqueak the rest of her life.

And let's not even talk about her wearing that summer dress. She did it once last year. One of the cadets asked her whose little sister she was and an instructor wondered why she was slacking off on attending Sunday School. The youth bracket in fact, the one for kids between eleven and thirteen years. It was hilarity writ large, never mind the preposterous notion of Towa Herschel slacking off.

She never wore her summer dress on campus again.

Crow closed the door to the office belonging to the chairwoman of the cadet committee. He walked to Towa's desk, the adjutant's table, and sat down on the chair in front of her. Then he put his feet on the desk, taking care not to touch the documents.

"Crow, put down your feet, please."

A two on the Towa Annoyance Scale. Safe zone. Therefore he ignored her.

"Madame 'Shadow Chairwoman', what do you need me for?"

He felt how her eyebrows almost began twitching, but she resisted his baiting. Her self-control was pretty awesome.

She put down the documents she was handling and looked him straight in the eyes. Her gaze took on that steely sheen which broke no argument, piercing and smashing away all resistance foolish enough to stand in her way.

Crow put down his feet. He was not going to project his usual irreverent self when confronted with Towa's game face.

"I need your help. The help of the best combat arts user at Thors."

"What's the problem, Towa?"

"Today, I received the finalized list of all prospective members of Class VII."

Very interesting. "And?"

She sighed. "It's a diverse mixture of cadets. Two nobles, six commoners... and one in-between."

Crow quirked an eyebrow. "How does one become an in-between?"

"By being the adopted child of a baron."

He thought a moment about that. "This must be awkward as all gehenna."

She sighed again. "You have no idea."

"You know him?"

She flinched, her almond shaped eyes widening. "Well, yes," she said slowly as if testing the waters.

"So it's a guy. Someone from your old school?"

"Stop it Crow. This is not about Rean."

Rean? Wasn't this the name of Towa's right hand man at Baldurs, when she was student council president? The one who did all the leg-work for her - and more? His lips went up in a cheshire grin. This was prime teasing material. Just wait till he told Angelica.

"Crow, get your head out of the gutter. He is not my boyfriend."

A solid five on the Towa Annoyance Scale. Starting to get dangerous. He blanked his face. There was always later, when Angelica was back from her field exercise. "I understand. A mixed class heavy on the commoners, so you fear the nobles in Class I and II will throw a hissy fit."

Towa folded her hands. "They will do that regardless of the proportions. The idea alone will rile them up, which is why the current cadet chairwoman needs to step down."

"In other words, the Shadow Chairwoman of Thors finally decides to step into the light, using her newfound position to shield the fresh chickadees of Class VII from the evil plotting of the noble cadets."

"Can you try to be less melodramatic?"

"Oh come on, Towa. Some things need to be done in style."

"And plotting the downfall of the current cadet chairwoman in her own office doesn't earn me any style points in your book?" She smirked.

Crow was lost for words, if only for a moment. This was one of the rare occasions when Towa went from almost sexy to full blown sexy. When the chips were down she always went for the gutsy option. So following that logic… "You want to challenge her to an arts duel."

She wrapped a lock of hair around her gloved index finger. "If it were about ousting her out of the chairwoman position, I could do it in two days, using a committee referendum. I have all the necessary forms ready to be stamped. Most of the instructors would support me. Following that is the re-election which I would win in a landslide."

"Yeah, the whole of Thors knows you are the one doing all the heavy lifting in the committee and Gelica can make a solid part of the noble cadets fall in line. But being at the top is about more than being an excellent administrator."

"Exactly. That's why I need to beat the supposedly best combat arts user at her own game."

Crow smirked. "Of course, we both know she isn't the best."

Towa smiled sweetly at him. "I will keep your secret. If you give me a winning strategy."

He sighed theatrically. "Madame chairwoman, you drive a hard bargain. But alas, bound by duty and honor I shall pledge myself to you, body and soul."

She rolled her eyes. "As I said Crow, a winning strategy is all I need. Pledge your knightly devotion to somebody else."

If Towa only knew. "I guess George already did maintenance on your combat orbment?"

She nodded.

"Good." He opened his trusty Quartz pouch and took out a piece of pure engraved Nohval, the barely contained power vibrating in his palm. "Take it."

Her tiny hands closed around the Master Quartz, the Nohval almost disappearing in the blackness of her glove. She gasped. "This is already mastered, right?"

"Yup." He popped the 'p'.

"So, what does it do?"

He grinned. "Why don't you put it into your ARCUS and feel for yourself?"

Towa opened her combat orbment as instructed. She took out her Canon Master Quartz and slotted in the inky piece of power, cut into the form of a dodecahedron. She closed her eyes and shortly after, her whole body lit up with the familiar cyan-colored glow of Epstein-Kowalski radiation.

She gasped again, her almond eyes becoming the size of dinner plates. Her mouth formed an 'o'.

"Crow, this is just unfair."

He shrugged. "So? You wanted a winning strategy, didn't you?"

"But this is..."

"Exactly what you need to do, Towa. We are at the most prestigious Officer School on the continent, where we are taught the Art of War. Any instructor stupid enough to cry foul play will be laughed off the campus by all the other instructors, and if a student does it? Then they haven't got the message of what combat is truly about. Their remedial classes will be long and painful."

She put her index finger to her lips, her eyebrows creased in a scowl. "But I still need to practice, don't I? This ability seems too powerful to be immediately usable."

"Yeah. If you want, I can give you some pointers. Your elemental incarnation doesn't fit, so the ability won't trigger as often. Still, as long as your casting reserves are about the same level as your opponent's, you will crush her – utterly."

She nodded, warming up to the idea. "Yes, some practice sounds good." She closed her ARCUS. "Tomorrow evening, on the track field?"

"Nah, too open for my taste. Secret awesome training should be done in secret." He raised his thump and pointed at himself. "And I know the perfect place. Meet me the next day after dinner in front of the engineering building."

She rolled her eyes again. "If I must, but no funny business." She wagged her fingers.

"Yeah, yeah, understood. It's a date." He stood up. "Gotta go. Places to be, the works."

She gave him a glowing smile. "Thank you Crow. I knew I can count on you."

He returned her heartfelt thanks with an awkward smile. "Of course, Towa. Anywhere, anytime."

* * *

Driving to Heimdallr on Angelica's bike was pretty awesome, all things considered. Crow was pretty sure she would throttle him for taking her baby on a cruise without her express permission. But come on - the machine was a joint project and as much his baby as hers.

Nobles and their possessiveness.

Since he attended Thors, juggling his double life became easier despite the commuting time to the capital. The courses were much harder, no doubt. However, they also put heavy emphasis on practical application, something he excelled at. The classroom time was also reduced compared to Odins military academy. A mere twenty hours a week, occasional field exercises or studies not included. The written exams were as difficult as ever though. It was simply expected that the cadets learned on their own time.

Physical conditioning also received a much bigger focus, but so what? He fought his way through a trial that would straight up kill most grown men as a sixteen year old punk. As such, he could again seemingly slack off and still receive straight A's in the combat exams. His true physical training was harder than most cadets on campus could endure, but there was no reason to let anyone know. It was natural to conceal his hand, save up his aces. It was something that came as easy to him as breathing.

Getting into Heimdallr itself was a choir as always. The amount of cars increased day by day causing traffic congestion on an almost hourly basis. Crow opted to cheat during such situations, weaving through gaps between cars too small to be capitalized by other drivers.

The faces they made at him were absolutely priceless.

His destination was Asgard District, a suburb of Heimdallr dominated by factories of all kind. A nexus of Heimdallr's secondary economic sector, the rapid transformation from manufacturing to almost full automation caused masses of workers to lose their jobs. It also became the birthing ground for a new batch of nouveau riche, cunning and ruthless business people of common extraction, who soon discovered the means of leveraging monetary power into political power. As a result they became major financial backers of the Reformist Faction. The neighboring districts became dilapidated in turn, due to masses of laid off people unable to maintain their housing. This left scores of empty real estate for the affluent and powerful to purchase.

As for the disaffected workers and their families? Most of them were resettled, often forcefully, to various less developed towns around the capital. That brought its own share of issues, but at least for the proper Heimdallr citizens the problem was out of sight and thus out of mind. The Imperial Chronicle published its usual propagandist tripe, hailing the measure's effectiveness and quick execution, heaping praise and adoration on Mr Bloody Steely Osborne.

It was the usual turn of the world. The strong preyed on the weak. While everybody focused on the class struggle between commoners and nobles, the class division between poor and rich was swept under the rug.

Crow didn't plan to ignore these people. It was after all a hotbed for new recruits.

He parked the bike in front of a brewery called 'Eichstätter Brauerei'. After locking his baby down, he made his way to the back entrance. There wasn't any need for secret signals. He was spotted beforehand by his comrades and allowed entrance into the headquarter of the ILF. The moment he stepped into the factory, the distinct smell of yeast and hop assaulted his nostrils. While the brewery was a front, the beer coming out of here was genuine. He wondered for a moment how Instructor Sara would like the place, but discarded the thought moments after. Soon, the ILF was going to leave this location behind. The moment they started to move for real, Heimdallr would be far too dangerous as their base of operations.

He may be reckless, but he was not suicidal.

He walked across the machinery, greeting people left and right, occasionally putting a hand on the shoulder of a comrade. The responses were respectful, sometimes even reverent, but there wasn't a speck of levity. As Crow soaked in the energy of the men and women around him, he turned his mind to steel, his heart to ice. Here, there was no Armbrust. No military cadet. No slacker who gambled his sweets away with the local kids at Trista.

Here he was C, the leader of the Imperial Liberation Front. Someone capable of steering men and women towards vengeance, inspiring patience and discipline along the way. He was someone who made a Jaeger corps leader kneel through sheer force of arms. Someone whose hate for Erebonia's prime politician was unsurpassed.

After he finished his round, Crow entered the basement. Like always, he headed for the archive first, though it could as well be called Gideon's personal hive. It was a well lit room with a high ceiling, abstract depictions of fabled creatures and holy plants carved into the stone. Gideon being the academic he was once told him the stories behind the ceiling's flora and fauna. Something to do with one of the countless animistic faiths which had influenced Erebonia for centuries. It was interesting trivia, but at the end of the day, Crow didn't use the room to learn about past stories.

The present was what concerned him.

Half of the room were rows of shelves filled with folders sorted by date. As for the folders themselves? They contained cheap black notebooks which were the essence of Gideon's work the last two and half years. Crow stepped into the other half of the room, dominated by a massive table that could give Towa's work desk a run for its money. Stacks after stacks of newspapers and magazines, unused notebooks, political pamphlets, their towering presence a testament to dedication and sheer bloody-minded obsession.

At first glance, the person in the center looked harmless. Hunched shoulders. The scrawny figure of a man who didn't exercise frequently, his stature even more diminished by the walls of paper looming over him. But it took only a few minutes of observation to catch on the subtle intensity of the man's actions. To realize he truly was the master of the gigantic amount of information surrounding him. To feel the smoldering flame burning in his veins, as he wielded scissors and glue like a pair of weapons.

When Michael Gideon first became part of the ILF, Crow was at something of a loss. How could a man like that even contribute to their cause? He still took the disgraced academic on Vita's insistence, for the one thing he had in common with them was his hatred for the Chancellor.

Assassinating a heavily protected target like Giliath Osborne was a gargantuan task, made even more difficult by the fact the man was former military. As such, he possessed an uncanny sense for danger, so Crow needed to grasp the mentality of a hunter in response. That meant patience, but even more crucial was a deep understanding about how his mark behaved. How it reacted. How it could be faked out and driven into a corner. Given the man was a politician and didn't have much of private life, the only way to map and anticipate his actions was through the political arena.

Crow was no stranger to politics, but like his school work, the skills his late grandfather taught him were more at home in a practical context. He could either infiltrate the Erebonian Government as an active politician, a pretty hopeless prospect, or all the training he received in his youth were worth spit. That left the indirect approach and Gideon happened to be the perfect candidate for the task.

As such, the man became Giliath Osborne's ultimate stalker.

"Hey, Michael, anything new?"

"Of course there is. It's the Chancellor we are talking about." The man spoke while continuing his work, cutting newspaper snippets and arranging them in another one of his black notebooks.

Crow had made it a habit of studying these notebooks on a regular basis. Gideon didn't arbitrarily put snippets from various newspapers together, but instead contextualized the disparate information of various media outlets into a comprehensible whole - though no prize for guessing what the articles were all about. More than ten years have passed since the Chancellor's Inauguration. Adding the man's insane efficiency and political weight to the fact and the sheer volume of articles about him were staggering. Gideon also knew to combine events which were indirectly influenced by the Chancellor's actions. The connection was often far from obvious, before they were arranged side by side with other articles, but that's where the man's background in political theory came in.

Crow sat down beside his comrade and looked over the newspaper the former academic was gutting. "The _Nuntius_? Isn't this the official media outlet of the Arterian Holy See? You don't often include this one."

"Scarlet was nice enough to organize the issues of the past two months for me. As always, having another perspective is so very useful to evaluate _that_ man's actions."

Crow grimaced. "Okay, I'll bite. What has Osborne done this time? I guess it's nothing good, if it causes the Holy City to scrutinize him."

Gideon scoffed. "Have you heard of the new package of educational decrees the Reformists are currently pushing?"

Crow leaned back in his seat and folded his arms. "The Imperial Chronicle might have mentioned it. As an aside to their usual ass-kissing."

"Ass-kissing." The former academic said the word like he was tasting it. "How very appropriate." He pushed the open page of his notebook in front of Crow. "This article from the Nuntius goes into actual detail about the content of the decrees."

The terrorist leader read the text. Then he cursed. "Compulsory education from age six to sixteen? Five days a week? Revival of the Erebonian language? What the hell? And why does the Imperial Chronicle omit something like this? I mean, we know the Chief-Editor is a sycophant, but are the rest of the journalists there totally spineless?"

Gideon took his notebook back. "The situation is what it is. Now comrade, can you tell me all the problems arising from the decrees?"

Crow scratched his head. "My feeling tells me this is bad."

"I dare say your feeling underestimates the graveness of the situation. Use your head."

"The Septian Church is going to be pissed."

"Why should they? The decrees don't forbid Sunday School. It merely makes it optional."

"Right. And after forcing little kids five days a week into classrooms, the buggers are certainly eager to continue putting their noses into books on Sunday. Besides, teaching kids that much during their formative years, that smells like political indoctrination to me."

Gideon smiled. "The article quotes Osborne who says the rapid technological transformation since the Orbal Revolution has lead to an explosion in knowledge. He further states that the future job market will need more than skilled workers, but employees with a deeper understanding of the technological process, which can't be conveyed by mere Sunday School education. If you ask me, this sounds pretty reasonable."

"Yeah, and we both know the dear Chancellor is a master in pushing his stinking agenda under the mantle of civilizational progress."

Gideon shook his head. "This by itself is a weak argument, Crow, but let's pretend for a moment I accept it. What exactly is his political agenda?"

"Weakening or outright driving supranational organizations out of Erebonia. He has almost finished the job with the Bracer Guild. The Church seems next in line and after that he will probably focus on the Epstein Foundation."

Gideon turned the page of his notebook and pushed it towards him again. Crow glanced over the articles glued there: several snippets about the guild bombing incident and the political fallout as well as an essay from a workers union pamphlet. It discussed stricter tariffs on Epstein derived orbal products. "Damn, I hate it when I'm right."

"Your argumentation still needs work."

"Come on, give me a break. Besides, it kinda itches me that Osborne's quote about the demand of technological progress does sound reasonable to me."

The former assistant professor wagged his finger. "It's in all probability a hoax. But this is a complex issue and unraveling it will require us to study several questions in depth. Like the nature of industrialization and machination, especially in regards to craftsmanship work. There are also the effects and consequences caused by extreme division of labor, like the _Entfremdung_ \- the alienation of the worker from his own work. Last but not least the shift of the economic sectors towards the tertiary one." He folded his hands in front of his face, his glasses reflecting the light and obscuring the eyes behind. "If you are free, I would be delighted to school you on these subjects."

"Thanks," Crow deadpanned. "I'm good."

"I guess you also see the problems stemming from turning the Erebonian language into the mainstay form of communication again?"

"Crystal. I mean it took the church centuries to standardize language across all nations in Western Zemuria. Starting armed conflict against a neighboring country is far more difficult when you understand what they are saying. Not that it prevented wars outright."

"Correct, though phasing out Zemurian Commons as the main language would be a slow process. Still, even the expressed intent on doing so is an open slap to the face against Arteria."

Crow shrugged. "Erebonian foreign policy 101. Be the biggest bully around."

"You boys having fun?" A sultry voice said.

Both of them turned and saw Scarlet and Vulcan enter the room. The former Jaeger corps leader was clad in combat fatigue, while the woman was wearing a nun's habit. "Heya, Scarlet, Vulcan. How are you doing?"

"Tch, I'm itching for a fight, boss. But you didn't need me to tell you that, don't you?"

Scarlet shrugged. "I may not be as eager for violence as this brute here," she playfully slapped his bare biceps, "but even I'm getting a little stir-crazy. So I went out to do a little bit of information gathering." She lifted the lower part of her habit with a single hand and performed a bow with one foot drawn backwards. "Our dear professor seems to be the only one who feels completely at home here."

"Former assistant professor," Gideon groused.

"Whatever. You are still an egghead."

Crow slammed his hand down the table. "Guys, as nice as it is to watch you banter, let's talk strategy. For the last two and half years, we have built in-roads into Heimdallr's disaffected citizens, organized crime as well as their elites. By doing so we gained an excellent information network and a fertile ground to recruit more members willing to further our cause. Thanks to Vulcan organizing the weapon smuggling routes for the criminal families we are almost entirely self-sufficient when it comes to money. We will need further cash from High Lordiness Cayenne if we want those airships though. Thanks to Scarlet, we also have an ear on Church Grounds, which allows us cooperation with the homeless network. Last but not least, thanks to Gideon's profiling work, we also have a good understanding about how that bastard operates in detail."

He looked each of them in the eyes. "We can consider the preparatory phase complete. It's time we bring on the action!"

Vulcan and Scarlet folded their arms at the same time, their faces hungry. "About time boss."

Gideon sighed. "Any reason you are holding a war conference in my room?"

The other three looked at each other before nodding as one. "Because this strategy meeting concerns you as much as Scarlet and Vulcan," Crow said in full earnest. "I'm making you one of the field leaders."

The former academic looked bewildered. "You can't be serious."

"When it concerns the Chancellor Bastard, I'm always serious."

"But why me?"

Vulcan laughed uproariously. "Because without your work here," he made a sweeping gesture across the room, "we wouldn't even know where to begin. How to formulate a game plan to ventilate that bastards head. Because we are aware that you have trained yourself like crazy. Blood is difficult to clean and you left it all over the guns you did shooting practice with."

"But I'm not a veteran of battles like you three."

Scarlet chuckled. "This is about dedication, comrade. Yours burns brightly. I may have discarded the vows of the Church, but it damned well taught me that faith can move mountains. You are going to do well."

Crow looked at the former sister, before giving her a sharp, meaningful nod. "Give it to him, Scarlet."

The former member of the Congregation for the Sacraments took out a flute from the fold of her habit. It was a thing made of glistening metal with a vicious protrusion adorning the mouthpiece. Crow sensed tendrils of power pouring from the object, bits of miasma spilling from the various openings. Gideon stared at the flute with confusion. But when he read the serious atmosphere, he soon deduced the true nature of this seemingly mundane object. His eyes popped out as a result, his usual stoic demeanor completely discarded.

"Is this an artifact?"

"The Demonic Flute. Scripture claims the melody of the thing can be used to control monsters. Problem is I haven't got a single musical bone in my body. But a cultured egghead like you should do fine. Take it."

The former academic grabbed the thin object, his hands shaking. "Thank you, comrades. I won't let your trust go to waste."

"If you want help, Gideon, give me a holler," Vulcan said. "As a Jaeger I am somewhat familiar with taming monsters. I can offer you some advice about what to look for when you use this flute. No reason for you to get eaten or maimed by the monsters while you get used to the thing."

"A warning though," Scarlet added. "Artifacts are known to corrupt the morality and good judgement of its users. Now, I'm not going to mourn our loss of morality - we are going to get our hands very dirty. But if you start to get cocky, throwing caution to the winds, because you think yourself invincible, that's when things get dangerous. We can't afford to underestimate our enemy, so be cautious."

Gideon clutched the artifact like a lifeline, his posture gaining a sharp edge. "I will take care, comrades." He chuckled. "I guess this flute belonged to the spoils of one of your missions, Scarlet?"

"My first and last, but let's not talk about the past. We have a bastard to kill."

Crow folded his arms. "I couldn't have said it better myself, Scarlet. Now here is my plan..."

* * *

The meeting took the better part of two hours. It was tiring, but worth the effort. His field leaders were raring to go, hungry for action. Now that they were provided direction, all he had to do was sit lazily at Thors and watch his planning bear fruit. Michael had shaken off his hesitation, though Crow wondered whether the artifact was already exerting its influence.

No matter. It was a risk he was willing to take.

He was readying himself to leave for Trista when one of his comrades, Marcus, approached him. "Hey, boss, I got a letter addressed to you. No sender."

Crow quirked an eyebrow. "A letter? Pretty old fashioned."

Marcus scowled. "That's the least strange thing of all. This missive was carried by a freaky blue bird."

He immediately snatched the piece of paper away. "Whoa, boss. That thing important?"

Crow opened the envelope. "You could say that."

_My dear Chevalier,_

_I have need of a bodyguard again. Meet me at Temple of Heavenly Tastes Gladsheim, 2nd level of Plaza Bifrost at 5 p.m. The VIP room number is 17. The restaurant is invitation only, so I have entered the name of your bodyguard persona on the guest list._

_I eagerly await your presence,_

_The Azure Abyss_

Crow cast a weak fire art incinerating the letter on the spot. "Thanks for delivering the message, Marcus."

"No prob, boss. You meeting someone?"

The terrorist leader smirked. "Yeah, the High Lady herself." And as always her timing was impeccable.

He went back into his personal quarters. A few minutes later he had changed out of his Thors uniform wearing a smart black suit with matching trousers and polished shoes. His trademark bandanna was deposited in his personal locker and his hair tied back in a small ponytail. He refused to wear a tie though, so he donned a pair of dark-tinted glasses to further distinguish himself from his usual appearance.

Angelica's bike was a no go. Far too attention grabbing like the woman herself. That left the tram network.

Time to go.

* * *

Temple of heavenly tastes Gladsheim - a high class restaurant hidden away in the bowels of Plaza Bifrost. Crow found the name pretentious as hell, but the food here was mouth-wateringly delicious. He checked his pistols making sure they were secured. If he was going to play Vita's bodyguard, he could as well do a proper job. His anticipation was running high though. Watching Vita waltz through social gatherings was always a treat.

Crow was stopped by the concierge. He told the old guy with a monocle his alias, Daran Arbalest, and the exact VIP room number Vita had reserved. It was enough to convince Mr Stuffy he belonged here.

That and his sharp dress sense of course.

As he walked through the establishment he braced himself to curb down his usual rough speech. He was loath to use appropriate manners to mix in with high society, but his grandfather did give him some of the best political training one could ask for. Straight from the horse's mouth so to speak. If Vita called him to a place like this, she was going to rub shoulders with Heimdallr's social elite - wrapping them around her little finger while slowly and surely wringing out every scrap of use she could get away with.

And she could get away with an awful lot being the National Opera's celebrated Diva.

There was also her weird magic, but that was of course totally hush-hush.

For him a gathering like this usually meant insider information about the cesspool of intrigue Heimdallr was turning into. And insider information was always good to have. He was planning to assassinate the most well-protected individual in the whole of Erebonia, aside from the Emperor himself.

The VIP area was on the second floor. A couple of curtained rooms promising privacy and intimacy. In his opinion mere fabric was far too flimsy to guarantee such but whatever. Shaking off the useless thought he parted the heavy sheets, a dark blue material with a luxurious sheen, and prepared himself to enter this den of dark gossip, seduction and politicking.

"Here you are. Welcome, Daran."

There it was: the Voice. With a capital V. He once asked her whether she used any magic to make her Voice sound the way it did - voluminous, powerful, ensnaring, hauntingly beautiful. It was aural chocolate sprinkled with pure liquid desire. A Voice one could drown in, the timbre hinting at depths no man could safely scale. A siren's lullaby, luring the hapless and the alert into the sweet embrace of oblivion, making them lose themselves in sheer auditory bliss.

Her answer to his question back then was ambiguous, accompanied by her usual coy attitude. Something she displayed when she was teasing him for the heck of it.

"Hi, Vita." He would have gone with a more fancy greeting, were it not for the utter lack of guests in the room. His mouth also turned as dry as dust, as his eyes roved across her body. It was a natural law of the universe that the Witch always looked fabulous. Her cover job gave her access to the best designer clothes Heimdallr's artisans had to offer. Still, over the years of their… acquaintance, he acquired a certain immunity to her extravagant choices of attire.

As such, Vita dressing in relatively unassuming clothes hit his mental defense like a dagger in the back. Of course, what went for unassuming in the Diva's case still meant a short black cocktail dress with an immaculate cut. While without any adornment, it clung scandalously to her every curve. Her shapely legs were sheathed in shining dark stockings, her feet displaying elegant high heeled shoes.

"Like what you see?" Vita purred, her Voice full of silent promises.

Crow sat down, his eyes never leaving hers, taking in her amethyst orbs framed by eyelashes as fine as silken threads. The makeup highlighted a heart-shaped face that put to shame the visage of even the most beautiful noblewoman. Her open hair fanned out like a waterfall, free of her trademark ponytail or expensive accessories. He took off his shades. Then he licked his lips. His movements felt mechanical, as if his body was performing preprogrammed stances.

"Yes, I do like what I see." There was no use denying it. She was one of the few people in the world who could read him like a book.

"You are always so adorably honest, my sweet Chevalier."

Crow leaned back in his seat and put his hands behind his head. "Only to you, love." He put on his most shameless smirk.

Vita's answer were peals of laughter which washed over him in a warm embrace. The giggle of an innocent maiden mixed with the sultry chuckle of a performing actress.

"There aren't going to be any guests here tonight, right?" Crow said. "It's only us."

"How perceptive." Vita smirked. "Think about it: an exclusive candlelight dinner with the Azure Diva herself. My dear Mr Arbalest, right now you are the envy of all bachelors in Heimdallr. And a good couple of young maidens as well I guess. "

He laughed sardonically. "Flattered. Now is there some kind of dark secret you want to reveal, exclusive to my ears alone?"

"Not at all. I wish to keep you updated on my movements." She smiled mischievously. "I have recently landed a new job at Radio Trista. A nice little program called 'Abend Time'. I am going to be the main host of my very own talk show, going on air soon."

Crow's mouth fell agape. "Okay, I'm not even going to ask how you want to juggle this with your whole Azure Diva and Anguis shtick. Still, is there a particular reason you are treading so close to my operating grounds?"

"Not at all, though it will make it easier for us to see each other." She winked.

He stared at her. "You are going to subjugate that Radio Station. Slowly, subtly, it will be ensnared by your wicked magic, until they are completely at your beck and call."

"Why, this is quite a heavy accusation."

Crow thought more on the issue, until he reached a startling conclusion. "This is insurance to help the ILF spread its message, once we go public as terrorists." He shook his head, floored at Vita's sheer foresight. "Michael explained it to me a few weeks before. How terrorism is a strategy of the weak, of the desperate. It's only effective when our acts are made known to the general public, when the message is spread. The unrest and anxiety we induce in the masses is a provocation to make the government overreach and commit mistakes. Therefore, suppression of information about our acts can neuter our whole game plan."

The Witch smiled, neither agreeing nor denying his hypothesis.

"But if there's a single break in the suppression the other press channels are forced to follow, lest they are left in the dust. They care about their ratings, their reputation. Or perhaps they want to correct the initial leak, air some kind of rebuttal or official clarification. It wouldn't matter at that point, because for terrorism there is no such thing as negative publicity."

She continued to smile. "What about press censure?"

"Very difficult during peace time. I know the chief-editor of the Imperial Chronicle is the mouth piece of whoever controls Heimdallr. But blatant censure outside justified martial law violates the Arterian Charter of Universal Rights. And frankly, if our acts force the government into this kind of PR nightmare we have already reaped the maximum benefit of this strategy called terrorism."

"Gideon would be proud of you."

"How the hell are you two steps ahead of everyone else again?"

"Simple. I am a full-fledged Witch." She grinned, her eyes casting a feverish haze. "I. Know. Everything."

Not creepy at all.

Crow knew he was capable in a lot of ways. Catching the fancy of the most stuck up and powerful noble in Erebonia. Keeping a motley crew hellbent on revenge on target. Or being acknowledged as worthy by some ancient ultra powerful golem machine. It all tended to brush up a guys ego. Even then, Vita still managed to make him feel inadequate.

Nah, no reason to dwell on it.

"I kinda asked you something similar already. But when you apply makeup, mascara and all the other stuff woman use to pretty up themselves, do you cheat with your magic?"

The Witch tilted her head. "What an uncouth question, my Chevalier. Digging after a lady's beauty secrets."

Crow gave an irreverent shrug. "Come on. I'm curious. I know some regular women take ridiculous amounts of time to powder their noses. But I can't imagine you bothering what with all the Society stuff you've got to keep track of. I believe you kinda snap your fingers and make everything apply itself to your exact specifications." He chuckled. "Another reason for mundane women to cry tears of envy."

Vita sighed. "I will leave the truth to your bountiful imagination. But remember, it's the secret that makes a woman a woman."

"Is this one of your Witch teachings?"

"Hardly. This is something taught to me by life itself. Now, it's time we indulge ourselves in the exquisite food and drink this place has to offer."

She raised a delicate hand encased in a white opera glove and snapped her fingers. Mere moments later, a waitress entered their little abode. After both of them chose their drinks, dry champagne mixed with starberry juice for Vita and a cold rye beer for Crow, the waitress left them to peruse the extensive menu containing delicacies from all regions of Erebonia.

"Nice party trick."

Vita regarded him with a smile that veered on being patronizing. "You know it's not a trick."

Crow rolled his eyes. "What else? A grand magic influencing the causality of events to provide you the perfect timing to show off?"

She smiled like a shark. "Yes, except for the 'grand' part. As far as sophistication and power goes, this is a pretty standard spell – for me at least."

"Aren't you modest?"

"Don't even deny that assertive women doesn't turn you on."

Crow felt himself chocking on his planned retort. He barely managed to suppress his spluttering, but Vita's victorious smirk was enough to show him that she caught on his near stumble.

"Okay. You win this round."

Both of them inclined their heads to each other like two fencers acknowledging a point well struck. Then they returned to their menus, but Crow soon found himself lost confronted by all the fancy names and obscure cooking terms so often used in haute cuisine. That was until he found a familiar dish.

He closed the menu.

"Ready?"

Crow nodded and Vita snapped her fingers a second time.

The waitress entered their table with impeccable timing – again. Crow suppressed a scowl. Perhaps the explanation was perfectly mundane and the poor girl was waiting the whole time outside. The Azure Diva was a VIP…

"Here are your drinks." She placed them with practiced motions. "And have the lady and gentlemen made a choice?"

"May I go first?" Crow asked. Vita made a gesture for him to go ahead.

"I would like a Bouillabaisse please."

The waitress scribbled it down before she started to fidget. "Sir I..." she began to stutter, "I would like to point out the smallest serving possible with this dish is for three persons. The original version from Ordis is actually for a minimum of five, so..."

"This won't be a problem, dear," Vita interjected. "I will partake in the same dish as this gentlemen. A three person serving should allow us to eat our fill. He is a hardworking man and needs his energy." She winked.

"Oh, of course. A Bouillabaisse it is."

"And tell me dear, did you by chance hear the snapping of fingers, before you entered the room?"

The brunette tilted her head in wonder. "No, I didn't? Should I have?"

Vita giggled, though he was the only one perceiving the dark undercurrent carried by the enchanting sound. "Not at all. I was just admiring your perfect timing up until now. You entered every time there was a lull in our conversation. This is an obscured room, so you cannot watch us. Even then your arrival seems almost _magical_ in its precision."

The waitress blushed. "I thank you for your praise, Lady Clotilde. I think I was just lucky. Or perhaps it was intuition? Whatever it is, I am happy to serve."

"Of course you are, dear," she said, clear dismissal in her voice. "Thank you for answering a whimsy of mine."

The waitress bowed deeply and left.

Crow gripped his beer and took a long swig, moistening his raspy and dry throat. Then he inhaled. "You are just messing with me now, aren't you?"

"A little reminder of what I am capable of. And to flex my spell-casting muscles so to speak. The last few month have been nothing but rehearsals and performances. I love singing, but letting my other talents rust is a no-no."

"So what will the National Opera perform next?" He asked with real curiosity.

"The Blitz of the Eisenritter, an Operetta in four parts."

"Whoa, the one written by Hildegard Bernkastel?"

"The one and only."

Crow scratched his head. "Man, this sounds like a monster project alright. The backstage work is going to be crazy and props are going to be a real pain. I can just imagine an Erebonian audience with their ludicrous standard when it comes to depicting a battlefield. I hope the manager isn't planning on using real horses."

Vita laughed, a full-throated sound that seemed to reverberate from her belly. It was the first laugh this evening that was not in any way calculated. An honest marvelous thing of beauty.

"Oh Crow, I fear becoming a stage manager for musicals is your true calling in life. First the joint classical concert at Valflame Palace with your adorable read-headed friend from Odins. Then the smashing rock performance with your friends at Thors and that absolute cutie-pie doing the vocals. You really shine your brightest when engaged with this kind of work."

"So what?" Crow snapped, his voice almost cracking. "Perhaps I should shelf this whole Awakener business and my goals for the dear Chancellor, too? Go outside, find me a band of wandering musicians, make it my mission to spread love and peace?" He spat out the last word.

Vita flinched.

"You are right, Crow." She locked his gaze with his, her expression full of warmth and a tinge of sadness. "That was foolish of me. It's just, you have changed from the scrawny teenager Cayenne picked up all these years ago. Back then you were like a drawn blade, your hate dictating your every action. That hate has been tempered and wrought into deadly steel, but it seems like other emotions also co-exist inside you now." She dipped her head, her eyes downcast, before she faced him straight again. "Aren't you feeling it? Your thirst for life returning to you?"

"I..." He grabbed his beer, only for his hand to loosen around the mug. He closed his eyes. "I am sorry, Vita. Lashing out at you was wrong. In the end, you are the only one who truly understands my current situation."

"Only by virtue of being in the same."

Indeed. Deception over deception. Masks piled atop each other until the face was all but buried. Was it any wonder he yearned for some authenticity? For his bare self to feel the caress of the sun again?

"Talk to me, Crow."

"What is there to say, Vita? You are right as always. The question is, does my thirst for life make me unfit for the role of ILF-leader?"

"The others will follow you to the depths of gehenna as long as you serve them the Chancellor's head on a platter."

"Exactly and there's the problem: a leader luring his underlings on a road of ruin, but without fully committing himself to it. I feel like a damn hypocrite!"

Vita quirked an eyebrow. "Is this really what you think?"Her Voice took on the cadence one usually used on a slightly demented child. "Really?"

"Vita?"

"You were made leader because of your exceptional abilities and your will to see things through. Putting up your life on the line? More like throwing it away. The point is, anyone can strap on a bomb and blow himself up. But that won't be enough against Giliath Osborne or the Imperial Intelligence Agency or the Railway Military Police. You on the other hand show your comrades a road to victory. A way to make your shared wish a reality. So what if you plan to have a life after you reach your goal? This makes you even more fit as leader."

"Why?" He cursed himself for sounding like a boy being scolded.

"Because as someone with a will to live, you still have a connection to the world and its people. You have a compelling reason to carefully consider the consequences of your actions."

Her gaze was now almost burning.

"You are in a position to curb the worst impulses of the ILF, now that you have decided to use terrorism as a means to accomplish your goal. I would even say it is your duty. Despite the single-minded focus of your comrades, assassinating Osborne is just a crucial step in a far greater plan. If the path till then is already filled with atrocities and corpses, the post-game for Cayenne to pacify Erebonia will become much harder. We also have our own plans to consider, my dear _Awakener_. And make no mistake: if you kill the Chancellor, your name will go down in history. I would rather it not stained with the stigma of a violent mass murderer."

"Don't they say history is written by the winners?"

Vita huffed. "A pithy simplification, especially in a world interconnected by trade and emerging communication technologies. Throw in the magic of the Hexen-Clan, the far reaching influence of shadow groups like Ouroboros and the Church..."

She shook her head. "Even if your sponsor wins the ensuing civil war as planned I guarantee you he won't be the sole playwright for the post-stage. So keep your act as clean as possible. Blood will inevitably spill, but there is no reason to pointlessly drown in it. If you are really lucky there may be a life you can return to."

There was no question what 'life' she was talking about. As always she had caught on his attachment to his Armbrust persona. He sighed.

"Thank you Vita. I needed that."

"Of course," her Voice softer than velvet. "It is my duty as a Witch to guide my chosen Awakener."

An amicable silence fell between them with Crow simply drinking in the sight of the woman before him. He was unsure exactly what the deal with Vita and him was. Even after knowing each other for three years. They had made it into a game in their private moments of cycling through the various roles and masks they presented to the outside, teasing and provoking each other in a subtle game of words and wit. Still, there was always this tacit understanding that both of them were only actors on a stage with the rest of the world left none the wiser.

Suddenly Vita raised her hand again, snapping her fingers. For the third time this evening the waitress entered their little private sphere like a puppet following her strings.

The Bouillabaisse was a dish containing several components: a soup stock made of various kinds of whole-boiled fish and vegetables, mayonnaise with a heavy mustard base, whole grain bread fresh out the oven and a menagerie of fish types used for the soup. Most of their flesh was still intact and their bodies artfully arranged on a massive plate. It was no wonder then that the waitress brought two of her co-workers to carry everything.

"This is the three person version?" Crow eyed the full table warily after the restaurant staff left them to their food. "I'm pretty hungry but it seems a little much."

"This dish brings back memories." Vita sounded nostalgic. "You always were partial to eating fish."

He grinned. "Can't help it. I did grew up in a port town. Besides, fish is awesome. Tasty, has high grade proteins and you become smarter by eating lots of it."

She snickered. "This was the very same dish you requested when Cayenne invited you to his mansion the first time."

"Back then I was half starved, with one foot in the grave. I actually ate up the whole portion by myself. What a sight that must have been."

Crow looked at Vita, his face softening. "It was also the first time we met." He grabbed the silverware. "Well, this time I intend to enjoy the Bouillabaisse with grace, sharing it with you. Thank you for being here for me, Vita."

Her eyes widened a fraction before her face settled in her confident and so very alluring smirk. "So your choice dish was at the same time bait for me, a subtle probe to our shared past and I fell for it hook, line and sinker."

"I learned from the best."

"Indeed you did." She stripped her glove and reached over the table with her slender hand, cupping his cheek. "You really are the perfect knight."


	3. The Four Amigos

****Thors Officer School, ToCS1 Outside the Fairy Tale****

****A/N: This chapter contains the first action scene as well as the first appearance of a Class VII member. Hint: It's not Rean. I may have forgotten to mention it in previous chapters, but I love reviews as much as any other author on FFnet. If you like my writing or have anything positive or negative to comment feel free to press the button.****

****And big thanks of course to the ones who already followed, favourited and reviewed my story. Answers to some of the reviews are located at the bottom of the chapter.****

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**Chapter 3 – The Four Amigos**

Towa walked walked towards Thors' combat gym, with instructor Makarov at her side. She made her move two days ago, proclaiming her candidacy for the position of committee chairwoman. Most of Thors' teaching staff gave them the go ahead. They declared their support for everything the cadet committee hashed out between themselves. At the same time she made the school wide announcement to take the candidacy back, if Liliana Gueldenstern, the current chairwoman, beat her in an arts duel.

It was a pretty nasty move as far as she was concerned. When she first entered Thors she was probably a tad too naive in facing some of the cut-throat attitudes displayed by her fellow cadets. There were no shortages of people showing zero scruples to abuse her helpful nature, so they could further their own reputation or achievements. When Angie befriended her, Towa was lucky that friendship brought an abrupt stop to the hyenas circling her altruism. The relationship started as one of the noble's many attempted conquests, but blossomed into something else fortunately. Still, she could hardly be proud of herself, if she always hid behind Angie's pedigree. As such, she took to committee politics like a duck to water, using her work ethic to accumulate favors and alliances. She also became an indispensable information-conduit between the instructors and the cadet body. In the end, she spun all the relationships she forged into a web of interlocking dependencies.

Right now, having Towa Herschel's help was the equivalent of a stamp of approval that the job was going to get done and that it would benefit Thors as a whole. It was also going to cost the one asking, for she found out that the cadets possessing a ruthless streak wouldn't respect her otherwise. Even so, she still indulged her altruistic streak occasionally, for she loved to help other people as an end to itself, thank you very much. She also discovered that most cadets intent on mingling in inter-school politics were eager to pay her with further favors down the road. Fortunately, both Crow and Angie taught her how to cash those in. Sometimes even on her behalf when she was swamped with paperwork again.

She truly was blessed with reliable friends.

Even then, most people on campus were caught flat-footed by the challenge she issued. Gueldenstern herself took the news with an air of cold disdain, having taken her immense support during her term for granted.

Just like so many other cadets before.

She was one of few people immune to the Rogner name, hailing from a military family with almost as much influence as the Four Great Houses. Adding to that was self-confidence backed by an iron will and a series of noteworthy accomplishments.

She was someone Towa respected despite her knowing the sentiment wasn't returned. Now that she had thrown the gauntlet though, the diminutive brunette was aware she had made a true enemy, no matter the outcome of their duel today. The veneer between them was broken, the battle lines drawn. While the current chairwoman didn't say it in so many words, her demeanor all but screamed that she intended to chastise her for daring to reach for the stars.

Good thing that reaching for stars was something of a specialty among people with the name 'Herschel'.

She might have become a little miffed about the easy dismissal in the past, but right now, she thought about how to use her opponent's arrogance against herself. Crow was clearly rubbing off on her.

When she entered the Thors gym, she felt her heart skip a beat. As the clear blue sky became a ceiling it felt like the consequences of her ambition were closing in on her. She folded her hands in front of her, trying in vain to still her breathing.

"Nervous, Towa?", Instructor Makarov asked, his usually coarse voice warm and friendly.

"I'm fine, instructor." She stopped and looked around herself to make sure nobody else was watching. She then used her hands to slap both her cheeks at the same time, the sound ringing across the foyer. "Autsch," she whimpered, but her breathing became more even and the sudden sense of claustrophobia receded.

"Guess this answers my question."

Towa smiled self-deprecatingly. "Guess it does."

They both continued their way through the Gymnasium. The building contained everything one could ask for to polish every combat skill imaginable. An armory to make a weapon enthusiast drool, dueling halls for melee spars, shooting ranges, obstacle courses, even so called 'scenario halls'. They could be customized into various terrains, where teams of cadets unleashed their hard earned skills against each other. It also served as a practice ground for cover traversal, terrain tactics and group combinations.

Then there was the crowning achievement: The Arts Pit. Like the name suggested, it was a quadratic 40 x 40 arge pit, ten arge deep. The ground and walls were kitted with cutting-edge anti-arts material. A vanadium-titan alloy with a specially processed Argem-Sapphirl matrix coating, interspersed with Goldia doped copper wire for conducting the orbal current needed to activate the defensive array. The opening of the pit was protected by a transparent, bluish force barrier with the necessary barrier-projectors being powered by Thors' own orbal generator. Towa looked up from where she stood and saw rows of cadets standing at the edge of the Arts Pit, their anticipation palpable.

The hall around the high-tech arena was big, but it was clearly not designed to house almost the whole cadet body. Still, Towa could hardly complain. Getting an audience as big as the one above was exactly what she wanted. Suddenly, she heard voices behind her and moments later, she was surrounded by her most treasured friends.

"Nice going", Crow said, his voice light-hearted as always. "With so many spectators, this is going to be fun."

Instructor Makarov grumbled. "I know you guys are here for moral support, but when the fighting begins, I want you punks out here except for little missy. Collateral damage is one thing, but I want this duel to be legitimate without any side accusing the other of third party interference."

"Yeah, yeah, understood instructor," Angie drawled. She wore her dress uniform for once instead of her biking leathers, though she forwent the skirt for pants and polished black leather boots.

"Do you now, cadet Rogner? You don't sound like you really grasp the situation, so let me spell it out for you real clearly: Organizing a ruddy duel between two A+ Affinity casters, a duel which the whole bloody cadet body is rearing to watch, is a damn pain in the ass. In the end, it's down to us engineers to deal with the necessary security precautions. We have to erect an artificial arts barrier capable of tanking elemental manifestations in the tens of megajoule range. That further means the generator had to be modulated to prevent the potential energy drain from causing the whole orbal energy network on campus to overload, explode and die. If we are forced to repeat this entire performance, I'm putting all three of you jokers through hell during the next science exam. Are we clear?"

"Crystal, Sir!", they chorused.

Makarov nodded and left them to their devices.

"I never thought preparation for an arts-duel could be so laborious", Angie murmured. She smacked her fist into her open palm. "Guess that's just another point in favor of a good old physical beat-down."

George chuckled. "I didn't have the opportunity to help the engineers on campus. But if you want my informed opinion, the preparations are indeed difficult and time-consuming. Even if everything in the Arts Pit works the way it's supposed to, there's the possibility the barrier projectors become toast after the duel due to overheating. Gueldenstern's castings pack a mean punch."

Angie nodded, before turning towards her. "Okay, my dear, sweet Towa, care to tell me what made you issue a challenge like that? George and I come back from the artillery field exercise to find the whole campus in an uproar with rumors flying left and right."

Crow smirked. "Well, what does it look like to you, Gelica? I would call it a power grab."

Angie rolled her eyes. "Except my dear Towa only makes power grabs, if it ultimately helps someone else or Thors as a whole."

She smiled. "Well Angie, Class VII is going to become a reality. Three days ago, I received the finalized list of the participants and the candidates are quite something."

"Something?", the other three asked.

Towa sighed. "Almost all carry political baggage one way or the other. Liliana is certain to be opposed to some of the new cadets, but I can't have her impede a project the four of us have paved the way for."

Angie nodded. "I see. But do you have a winning strategy against the chairwoman? All bluster and arrogance aside, she's powerful."

Crow cackled. "Who do you take her for? This is our field leader we are talking about."

The Rogner heir grinned. "Clever. She asked you for help, didn't she? And knowing birdbrain, Towa comes prepared with something really, really nasty."

"You bet."

Towa sighed. "I am still nervous, you know."

George put a hand on her shoulder. His voice gruff, but gentle. "Give it your best, Towa. I trust Crow's devious trickery enough to know you will pull off a beautiful victory. As long as you keep all our strengths in mind, you'll be fine."

She smiled. "Thanks, George."

Angie put a hand on her other shoulder. "Same as our team engineer said. Win the duel and grab the position which should have been yours anyway."

Towa couldn't suppress a sniff. "Oh guys, you are the best."

Crow folded his arms. "Don't disappoint me, my impromptu apprentice of the dark force. Using black colored time arts is an ability most depraved, but it shall grant you victory even inside the jaws of defeat." He then stopped speaking in his deep pitched, theatrical voice. "Besides, I have a betting pool running, with five to one odds against you, Towa. And look at you, dressed in combat fatigues. I have snatched a look at Gueldenstern some minutes ago and she is in full ceremonial dress, tight skirt included." He winked. "A textbook example of the dark horse about to topple the glorious champion. Win this duel, and the emotions will flow - and the Mira."

The other three looked askance at the white haired jester. Then they face-palmed in unison.

"You are impossible, Crow," Towa mumbled, but she couldn't quite stifle her laughter.

"Good to know you just volunteered to pay for Towa's victory dinner party," Angie spoke up. "And don't think you can wiggle yourself out by inviting us to Kirsche. I want a full three-course menu for each of us with drinks inclusive at Schwarzwald." She put an arm around Crow's shoulder. "You, buster, will foot the entire bill."

"There are some people who would call this extortion, you know?"

George put his hands on his hips. "Angelica's idea sounds fine to me, although we should also include desserts."

"Male solidarity, why have you abandoned me?" The other three broke out in laughter.

"Could you please get out of the way?", an arctic voice cut in.

The four friends turned, coming face to face with instructor Bernhard and current cadet chairwoman Liliana Gueldenstern. Angie folded her arms, placing her weight on one foot. "I know you are straight-laced and all, but sometimes it pays to simply maneuver around an obstacle, cadet chairwoman."

The woman wearing the white dress uniform of a noble flipped her blond hair back, her expression cold. "None of you beside Herschel and instructor Makarov are supposed to be here. If you are so eager to watch you friend lose, do it like the rest of the masses from up there."

Crow put on an ugly smirk. "It's nice of you to worry for our safety, Gueldenstern, but staying here is just so tempting. Having a front row seat to your impending public humiliation is nothing to scoff at, you know?"

The cadet chairwoman's expression turned furious for a moment. A moment later, she managed to clamp down on her emotions. As she was about to shoot another caustic remark, instructor Bernhard interrupted her. "Enough! The duel is about to begin. Armbrust, Rogner, Nome, take your positions with the other cadets."

"Yes, Sir!" The three saluted and left the pit.

Which left Towa to face Liliana by her lonesome. Her right hand fell down and touched her ARCUS pouch, a simple motion to further calm herself down. No, she wasn't alone. Like George said, she carried a part of each of her treasured friends within herself. Angie's initiative and battle instinct, George's silent dedication and steady demeanor, Crow's resourcefulness, cunning and his ability to think outside the box. They had fought together, worked together, laughed and triumphed together. Throughout all, they had learned from and enriched each other. With bonds like these, who needed artificial ARCUS links?

She smiled, glad her confidence was returning. Moments later, she felt an anit-arts barrier forming around herself and her enemy, layering itself seven times. She looked back at Instructor Makarov, giving him a nod of thanks. The gruff man shrugged, his body and orbal staff still emitting cyan light. The noise outside the Arts Pit was rising to a fever pitch, but she blotted out the distraction. She focused her gaze straight towards the one she had to beat. Only Gueldenstern was important right now.

"I don't understand you, Herschel."

Towa tilted her head. "What is there not to understand?"

"You are no warrior. You detest conflict. Armbrust might be a disgrace, but there's no doubt he knows how to fight. The same can't be said for you." She shook her head. "To be honest, I find it absurd you have attended Thors in the first place."

"How strange you only start to wonder about my combat aptitude the moment I'm of no use to you anymore."

Liliana smiled icily. "So you do know how to lash out with that silver tongue yours." She flipped her hair again. "Well, show me whether your arts casting is as sharp as your mouth."

Towa inhaled, her mind mapping the Quartz configuration. Her body directed the flow of energy to connect with her orbment.

Nohval current set. As the black art suffused her body, everything she saw seemed to turn into sharp relief. Liliana's movements became slow like molasses. Towa sprinted sideways, circling her target. She was merely manipulating her internal time and perception, so her movements ended up stiff and uncoordinated.

The cadet chairwoman didn't even bother to turn, her body aglow. Towa activated her ARCUS. A mere moment later, bolts of heated plasma shot towards her. Even with her internal time accelerated, Towa barely managed to dodge, landing on her knees. In the second it took her to stand up, moisture in the air re-sublimated into icicles all around her, tips sharpened to an edge. There was no escape this time, so Towa channeled the power of mirage, building a reflective dome around her. The water arts crashed into the shield and Towa concentrated, feeling out the sweet spot when the spiritual momentum of the ice attack reached...

Zero.

She raised both her hands and whipped them down, the movement helping her to revert the arts manifestation. Instead of splintering, the icicles were swallowed by her silvery dome. Moments later the water art appeared around Gueldenstern. The chairwoman performed a pirouette, her body aglow again. A ring of fire manifested around her, countering the rebounded water art with casual disdain.

Towa was casting again, manipulating dual streams of Nohval and Amberl energy. Three spikes of rock manifested above her, tendrils of inky time distortion feeding into them. She felt the heat of her combat orbment through the leather pouch and the rough fabric of her pants, but there was no holding back against an enemy like Liliana

A focused gust of wind shot through the flames, dispersing the fire, intent on blowing her against the wall. Towa was ready though, releasing the rock spikes at five times their usual attack velocity.

Arts were some of the most mysterious phenomena in orbal science. The phenomenon broke several natural laws with no satisfying hypothesis in sight. Even now, it was poorly understood from where the elemental manifestations of water, earth or fire came forth and where they disappeared once the casting ended. Still, as long as the elements stayed materialized in the familiar plane of reality, they were subject to the laws of physics.

The rock spikes dived headlong into the wind, their impact energy far too great for the stream of high-density air to slow them. The resulting friction was strong enough to flash-heat the rock surface, turning them into high-speed magma projectiles.

Liliana Gueldenstern showed her prowess as one of Thors' most formidable arts users by erecting an earth wall in an instant. But the protection only held against two shots, with the kinetic and heat energy dispersing itself in shattering explosions. Staggered like that, the third magma spike hit her squarely in the chest. Two high grade anti-arts barriers of instructor Bernhard shattered into mist.

Towa took the full brunt of the sustained air strike, her small frame pushed back and slammed against the pit wall. Luckily, she managed to push her chin towards her chest, avoiding a concussion. She bit down the pain which arced from her left shoulder towards her right hip. Despite everything the attack was insufficient to break even one of instructor Makarov's anti-arts barriers. Yet her opponent only had a single left before she lost the duel.

Liliana got up from her prone position. Her long, shining locks were tangled, her immaculate dress uniform ruffled. She was seething with anger. "I underestimated you Herschel," she sneered. Her words still sounded distorted in Towa's ears. Seemed like her internal acceleration was holding. "Playtime is now over."

The chairwoman's body became ablaze with light, the Epstein-Kowalski radiation jumping the orbomagnetic spectrum to pure, blinding white. It basked her whole body like a divine aura, turning her form into the likeness of a Valkyrie of legend. She stretched out her arms, Russel-Hamilton condensation of blue and red forming in each of her palms. A double casting of fire and water.

How beautiful. For a second, Towa envied her opponent for her looks, but that useless thought was squashed down in an instant as she channeled the special black current of Crow's Master Quartz. Liliana was famous for utilizing Pandora, trading higher energy consumption for overwhelming and diverse firepower. Her opponent was pushing the arts amplification to its limit, planning on destroying Towa's anti-arts barriers in one fell swoop.

Good thing she still had an ace to play.

A frozen river of cryoclastic ice raced towards her, two balls of superheated fire circling above, descending like the wrath of heaven. The water art was supposed to pin her down, while sapping protective energy. The moment the fire art connected with the ice, the extreme temperature differential would cause a massive steam explosion to beat her down.

But when the water art made contact with the thin barrier of Nohval energy surrounding Towa, a second stretched to an eternity. The corroding and all-encompassing power of Time seeped into the manifested ice, the procedure and methodology of a lost civilization playing itself out with her body as a mere conduit. Reality lurched, the flow of events balking like the stuck cog of a combat orbment refusing its rotation.

The frozen river dissolved or perhaps it disassembled itself? Was the spiritual matrix of the manifestation corroding? Words were insufficient as the world itself declared a revocation of an occurrence already happened. It was a violation of the real that human perception wasn't meant to process.

When the two fireballs collided, there wasn't any ice for them to vaporize and as the heatwave of the resulting detonation reached Towa's black barrier, the fire art fell victim to the same uncanny deconstruction. Nothing remained, as if Liliana Gueldenstern had never performed her prodigious double casting to begin with.

Towa activated her ARCUS again, intent on using up every last scrap of energy, directing the dual flow of Sapphirl and Esmelas. Her opponent was still in shock, but Towa wasn't about to relinquish her initiative or show mercy. If the last year on campus taught her one thing, it was that following her ambition meant trampling over the ambition of others.

The Shadow Chairwoman of Thors hardened her resolve. She was going to continue her ascend to the top. One step at a time.

A deluge of water manifested itself from thin air, followed by a horizontal whirlwind which turned the mass of liquid into a spiral of destruction. It struck the current chairwoman like the swipe of a gigantic, coiling snake. It broke through another two anti-arts barriers, throwing her down the floor again. This time, she didn't get up.

"Cease dueling!", both arts instructors roared at the same time.

Towa breathed a sigh of relief, finally allowing the tension to leave her body. She straightened herself, the act causing her to black out. She bit the inside of her mouth until she tasted blood, using the pain to focus herself. No faltering. No wavering. She needed to show strength, steadfastness. As much as her diplomatic and gentle nature was useful in everyday administration, she was about to prove that she was also a dangerous person. Somebody to be wary of.

Or to put it in Crow's crass verbiage: Someone who shouldn't be fucked with.

The crowd above the pit was in an uproar. Soon they began shouting. It took her some time until she realized it was her own name the cadets were chanting. Then she felt strong arms snaking around her neck and soon found her head colliding with fabric hinting at an expanse of soft flesh beneath.

"Angie, air."

"Oh Towa, that was sublime," the Rogner heir gushed. "You are becoming more irresistible by the second."

She felt too weak to struggle, so she settled for sighing and complaining. "Angie, I swear. Let me go."

This only caused her exuberant friend to rub her cheek against her hair. Oh, well. Goodbye dignity. It was nice knowing you.

"Hey, I totally think girl on girl is hot, but Towa could use some emergency sugar right now. Afterwards, you can continue your show for all I care."

"Hey buster, I'm not putting up a show for you to ogle, but I guess you are right about the sugar."

She blinked. Her mind felt sluggish, but soon enough something solid was put into her hands. "Come on," she heard George speak, his voice gentle. "Eat some and you'll feel like new."

She obeyed, biting into the food. The inside of her mouth stung with pain, but the sugary goodness spread across her tongue shortly after. It was chocolate! She swallowed and ate the rest, feeling warmth returning to her body. Her mind became clear again.

Towa looked around, finally taking in her surrounding. Colonel Beatrix was treating Liliana who was on her feet, though she was struggling to keep upright. Her friends were at her side together with principal Vandyck and instructor Sara. Towa cast a weak tear art, closing the wound inside her mouth.

The former general smiled kindly, his eyes twinkling. "That was a splendid performance, Cadet Herschel. I daresay after a display like that most of the youth on campus won't even think of contesting your rise as cadet chairwoman. It will make you the second commoner in the history of this institution to ever reach the position. I'm expecting great things in the future."

Towa felt like her smile was about to split her face, but she couldn't care less with the sheer elation she felt. "Thank you very much, principal," she bowed deeply, the posture she used not of Erebonian tradition. The man before her had always supported her team with a warm smile and valuable advice. So for once she felt military protocol wasn't quite enough to show her appreciation. "I will do my best."

Principal Vandyck's smile became even broader. Like Towa anticipated, he recognized the true nature of the gesture. To a casual observer the bow would look like a mundane motion of deference, but again he proved his deep awareness of eastern customs.

"Say, Sir," Angie asked, "the first commoner to reach the position wouldn't happen to be you?"

Vandyck's smile turned a tad smug. "Exactly, Cadet Rogner."

"Beautifully done, Towa," instructor Sara cheered. "Though I suspect this was a team effort as always." She smirked, throwing Crow a gimlet eye. "You usually don't use time arts that frequently and that strange stunt you pulled with Gueldenstern's ultimate attack has our favorite slacker's style written all over."

Crow chuckled. "Hey, it's nice someone recognizes my genius."

Principal Vandyck stroked his beard. "That was indeed an impressive effect." He looked between her and Crow. "They always say you can't teach an old horse new tricks and combat orbments aren't something I've ever tinkered with. Still, I'm curious about what exactly you did here."

Towa wrapped a lock of hair around her index finger. "The Master Quartz is called 'Katze'. I've never heard of it before, but Crow was nice enough to let me borrow it."

The white haired youth put his hands behind his head, his face a study in smugness. "It allows the user to disassemble any art and absorb the dispersing energy. Towa doesn't have a time incarnation like me and only practiced for two days, so disassembling arts was the best she could do. In a regulated duel this is still plenty though."

"Do you know the theory behind this ability?", George asked.

Towa and Crow looked at each other. "We can only guess," they both said in unison. "Althoough," Crow continued, "Towa thought up some really sweet hypothesis I've never considered. If she didn't bury herself in paper work all the time, she could become one of the scariest arts users at Thors period."

She giggled. "Stop the flattery, Crow."

He smirked shamelessly. "Oh? Am I making you blush?"

She felt Angie hugging her from behind again. "Don't you dare prowl on Towa's innocence, Armbrust. Put your moves on some other clueless maiden."

"Wow, that's the biggest load of hypocrisy I heard all day, Ms Rogner, considering the sheer amount of male hearts broken on campus to sate your raging libido. Oh, and let's not forget the female hearts too, once the seduced women realized you are an unapologetic multi-timer."

"Tsk."

Crow bend over, legs strained, his body language akin to a predator about to leap. "Did you sneer at me? You did, didn't you? The nerve."

Angelica smashed her fist into her palm. "Oh, already riled up? How about we resolve our differences in the ring next door?"

Towa sighed. "Angie, Crow, be nice to each other."

Both of them flinched. "Please not the puppy dog eyes. That's unfair," Angie pressed out, her voice stifled.

George face palmed again.

Towa gripped Crow's and Angie's forearms. "Both of you are so childish sometimes - now shake hands and make up," she cooed.

Both of them looked like they swallowed something sour.

"Now!" She snapped, her voice turning into pure steel.

The headstrong duo scrambled to give each other their hands, yet the smile they forced on their faces looked more like grimaces. Towa shook her head. Letting them duke it out later might be the best course of action.

Instructor Sara chuckled. "Aidios, you kids are a riot."

"I, for one, am completely stumped how a group more fit for a comedy troupe could even function, let alone beat me," Liliana interjected.

They turned to the current chairwoman. Towa stepped up, her gaze hard, her friends fanning out behind her like an honor guard.

"And then you do something like this," Liliana murmured. "The diminutive general and her trusted officers."

"Are you ready to comply to the terms of the duel?" Towa spoke, all business.

"Yes." She looked around the Arts Pit, taking in the spectators surrounding them above. "I, Liliana Hildegard von Gueldenstern, hereby declare my resignation from my post as the chairwoman of the cadet committee at Thors. By the power invested into my office, I appoint committee adjutant Towa Herschel as my successor."

The crowd erupted again, clapping hands and shouting their congratulations.

Liliana flipped her hair. "This way, we can spare us the re-election."

Towa reached out her hand. "Thank you."

"Don't, Herschel. There is nothing to thank. I'm doing the only thing possible in my situation to save face and mitigate the political damage you inflicted on me." She took her hand and they shook. "Everything that happened today is the result of you willing to raise up against me."

Towa smiled. "This is where you are wrong, Liliana. Today is the result of the support I received from my treasured friends. It's the result of the bonds I established with my fellow Thors cadets and the instructors. They are the ones who see it fit to entrust me with the responsibility of chairwoman. We are no singular existences."

They released their hands. "Still the naive idealist," the former chairwoman said.

"Forgive me for being blunt, but you are the naive one if you attribute your accomplishments solely to the individual. It's a simplification of reality which misconstrues the inter-connectivity of human solidarity."

Liliana's smile was so thin as if carved by a knife. "This inter-connectivity you speak of isn't something grasped by most people, Herschel. The masses need lighthouses of inspiration to guide them in the stormy sea of reality. That's why Heroes exist. As objects of worship to concentrate the accomplishments of the many onto the few."

Towa frowned. "There are no Heroes."

Liliana huffed. "Instructors, Principal. I thank you for your support during today's duel. I would like to bid all present farewell."

Principal Vandyck nodded. "Very well, Cadet Gueldenstern. I thank you for your excellent work until now. Dismissed." He saluted.

She straightened and returned the salute. "Sir!" Then she turned to Towa again. "You know, Herschel, for someone who doesn't believe in the existence of Heroes you are quite intent on becoming one." With that last parting shot she turned smartly on her heels and walked out of the Arts Pit, her head held high, her posture proud.

* * *

It was moments like these when Fie Clausell wondered why she still tolerated Sara's antics.

Sure, the woman kind of became her guardian after that incident. But it wasn't like anybody asked her opinion or anything. Guess it was still better than being totally on her own. Once she started to live in the small flat with the female Bracer, while mingling with the people in Trista, she realized one important thing:

She didn't fit.

Seems people couldn't compute how a sixteen year old had battle scars all over her body. Personally, she had seen far worse, but the reactions were strange and bothersome. Housewives and shopkeepers freaked, mumbling incoherent stuff about 'domestic abuse' or 'calling the authorities'. When she told them where she really got them, nobody believed her, although the one time, she actually showed the disbelievers some of her moves.

They freaked out even more after that.

At some point she gave up and consistently wore long sleeved clothes and dark tights before donning her favorite hot pants. Luckily, she didn't have any scars on her face, though there was the one on her scalp from a shrapnel fragment. It happened during an operation at a border town in Calvard, when her former corps came under heavy artillery fire. She also had a nasty line on her neck. High velocity incendiary round which nicked her during the retaliation against Fenrir. It was a potent lesson to treat cover with reverence and to realize that her speed didn't make her invincible.

Since then she wore her hair long.

"What's with the face, Fie? We are going to dine spectacularly this evening. One of my students is paying."

And didn't this sound all kinds of wrong? She quirked her eyebrow. "Did you trick him?"

The woman glared, though she didn't put any heart into it. It ended up being more playful than anything else. Sara was silly like that. "No, I didn't trick anybody. I invited myself and you. He was nice enough to agree. Besides, if anyone is doing the tricking, it's the one who's paying." She paused. "How do you know it's a guy?"

She rolled her eyes. "They are more prone to be suckered by you." Jaeger life hadn't prepared her for life among mundane people, but even she was perfectly aware being a boob monster had its perks.

She stared at the purple haired woman and her considerable cleavage which neither her marine colored trenchcoat nor her short yellow dress obscured in the slightest. She also didn't have any scars from her neck down the top part of her breasts. Fie knew. She had looked closely, only to curse at the goddess for bestowing her bounties without any justice nor fairness.

"Hey, at least we don't have to cook tonight."

Right, cooking. Something both of them failed at. In the last few month they had fallen into an uneasy routine in their so-called domestic life. Though she wasn't sure them living under one roof truly qualified as such. Sara was busy most of the time at the officer school or some Bracer side job she tried and failed to conceal from her. When she came back, exhausted and sometimes frustrated, especially after her Bracer missions, she tended to fall into a bottle. Fie on the other hand suffered from a lack of activity, so she usually napped the day away. The result was that their flat soon became a den of detritus, trash and empty bottles, until it reached a breaking point. Then both of them banded together in a half-hearted attempt at cleaning. They aired out the smell and cleared at least some rough patches of floor for them to step on, but it was an uphill battle.

Then the circle repeated itself.

The awkward part was that Sara wasn't deliberately neglecting her. She was just bad at taking responsibility. Fie wasn't sure whether their relationship even comprised of the woman paying her any overt attention or if she even wanted it.

Sara made her uneasy.

The moment she introduced herself as a Bracer, Fie felt something amiss. Like puzzle pieces taken away leaving a picture with a gaping hole. Even back then, she was of course aware of her reputation: Purple Lightning. A-Rank Bracer. Even the Boss respected her strength. Bracers themselves were a sore topic among Jaegers: Wannabe heroes, cheap gofers, pacifistic weaklings, hopeless idealists... all appellations she heard thrown around, but Sara didn't conform to any of them. Except the cheap gofer part. Searching for pets? Really?

The first time they sparred, it finally clicked - the ferocity of her attacks, the understated brutality of her techniques, the sheer economy of her foot-work, the aura of blood thirst. She was Ex-Jaeger. A strong one. Still, Fie couldn't resist tickling the proverbial dragon, so she used a craft she wasn't ready for:

Warcry.

Sara answered in kind and trounced her. Afterwards she forbid her of ever using the technique again. It was the only time she ever banned her to do anything. Considering the side effects, it was probably the smart thing to listen - for once.

As for Sara's Jaeger affiliation, they never talked about it, but both of them were aware the gig was up. Considering her strength, there weren't a lot of corps on Western Zemuria she could have belonged to. Red Constellation was out. Zephyr studied them painstakingly before the fated confrontation of their leaders. Someone like Sara could have easily made battalion commander. Even as someone who hypothetically left the corps, some intelligence about her would have made its way to the Boss. The man was thorough like that.

Which only left Niddhogr or the Northern Jaegers. Fie suspected the latter. It was a gut feeling.

After the revelation, it dawned on her that she was co-habiting with a mirror image of herself. A pretty twisted one mind you and aged up a couple of years, but even now she didn't know whether she liked what she saw. Thus the uneasiness.

What she definitely didn't like was the drinking part. Actually, it was mighty annoying. She knew from her comrades that alcohol numbed the pain of the past, made it easier to forget if only for a short while, followed by the jerks teasing her that a midget was too young to drink. But to get the flashes of that fight out of her head? To avoid the night terrors she got the few times she truly let herself sleep, when she saw the orbal powered axe buried inside his ribcage, the trail of cauterized flesh beginning from the smashed collarbone, the right side of his upper face blasted away alongside the eye...

again

and again.

She bit down on her lips, shaking her head, forcing the memories away. The Boss had given as good as he got. The War God's body had been in a pretty similar condition, mangled like a piece of raw meat thrown into a grinder, but the cost...

She didn't like it, didn't like the smell, the idea of hangovers, the mess it made out of the apartment the two times the Ex-Jaeger misjudged her tolerance and puked all over the floor. Even then, trying out some of Sara's stash became more tempting by the day.

"Here we are. Dinner awaits", the Ex-Jaeger said smugly.

Fie looked up, broken out of her reverie. She blinked and then scolded herself for drifting off like this. A Jaeger was always aware of her surroundings. The place they were about to enter seemed like a pretty expensive restaurant. Schwarzwald. She quirked an eyebrow. Black forest, huh? They stepped into warm light and a room filled with pleasant piano tunes, laughter and the low hum of ongoing conversation.

She checked out the interior layout. Pretty much all windows on the west side made for excellent exit points as they all lead to a low visibility alleyway. A waitress walked towards them, harmless, asking about bookings. Sara spoke something she didn't care about, so she continued to look for ambush points or places susceptible to sniper fire. The counter was a good hiding place, but had flimsy cover. Sitting down at the east side was a nice way to get one's head ventilated.

Fie was aware her surveillance wasn't necessary. Trista was a peaceful town, far away from bloody battlefields. Neither her nor Sara were high priority targets or carried bounties on their heads. But it wouldn't do for her to lose her touch, lose that edge she had honed in the theater of war for five years. It seemed too much like a betrayal of her time with the corps otherwise. Besides, she was going to attend the officer school Sara worked at. The people there seemed to respect her skills the few times she went to do tests and mock combat. Sara didn't seem to like it exactly, but what else was she supposed to do? Become a waitress?

She followed the Bracer up to the second floor, repeating her sweeping once again and coming pretty much to the same conclusion. Their destination turned out to be a table at the east side corner without any windows around. Interesting. Seemed like Sara's students knew a thing or two about safety. There were four people present, their appearance strikingly dissimilar. While Sara did the introductions, she scrutinized them: A tall guy with white hair, almost the same color as hers with a tinge of gray. The way he wore his uniform was kind of slovenly, the tie loosened and the sleeves rolled up, revealing densely muscled forearms. Fie narrowed her eyes. The guy was scrutinizing back, his eyes tracking her, his body tension loose but ready. Out of the four, he was the one who smelled of danger the most.

Suddenly she heard a squeal that put all her instincts on high alert.

"Instructor Sara, you've been holding out on me!", a husky voice purred. Fie teared her gaze away from the white one, focusing her attention on the immediate source of danger. Another tall person, a women in body hugging black leather. Very beautiful, her violet hair cut short, but not overtly so. She saw the strange woman stand up, her hips swaying the whole way, until she was at the edge of her striking zone. Her expression was one she didn't quite understand, yet it made her skin crawl. "Heello, cute one. Care to tell me your name?"

These were Sara's favorite students? Or cadets or something? They were turning out to be a bunch of weirdos.

"Angie, don't harass instructor Sara's... friend?"

She changed her attention again, her gaze fixing on the next person, who seemed intent on continuing the theme of mismatched weirdos. This one turned out to look like she was younger than her. Thick brown hair, a petite stature. Her face was quite pretty, her eyes almond shaped and slightly slanted. Some eastern heritage? Out of the four she was the only one wearing her military uniform properly. It clashed with the fact that she registered as a harmless civilian on Fie's senses. Someone who was about as dangerous as a cute chipmunk.

She could already feel the beginnings of a headache creeping up.

Sara sighed. "Please introduce yourself. It's the polite thing to do."

She suppressed rolling her eyes. Since when did Sara give a crap about politeness? "Fie, hello."

The weird leather clad one cooed in delight, while the small chipmunk narrowed her eyes. The two guys took her greeting in stride, nodding back in acknowledgment. The last one of the group, a heavyset man wearing a mechanic's gear, admonished the creepy woman to tone down her flirtations.

Flirtations? So she wasn't the only one who thought women were more attractive than men? Interesting.

Sara and her sat down with the dangerous one speaking up again: "So you are the sixth mouth I'm supposed to feed tonight. Will my purse survive the onslaught?"

She tilted her head. "You don't look like a noble, or rich for that matter."

The leather clad woman snickered. "That's because he isn't. The only one with noble blood sitting here is yours truly."

"You look even less like a noble," she deadpanned.

Out of some baffling reason, all people present broke out in laughter. Some kind of inside joke? Weird. Still, the laughter didn't sound too bad. They clearly weren't laughing at her. It felt more like an inviting sound, beckoning her to come closer. There was camaraderie here, something she was quite familiar with. Fie relaxed her posture, sensing the white one doing the same. She looked at him, but the guy didn't seem intent on commenting. He just winked at her.

Perhaps Sara's weirdo students weren't so bad.

Soon enough, a waitress appeared to take their orders. Sara and the one clad in leather, whose name was Angelica, informed her that she could go ahead and buy a full three course menu. Fie, being the practical person she was, held nothing back and asked for the dishes with the biggest portion. She was a growing girl, after all.

After the waitress took everybody's order, the people present fell into easy conversation. Fie quickly realized they were mentioning stuff all of them had to be aware of. Did they want to include her into their dialogue, bringing her up to speed? She could appreciate that, especially because they weren't blatant about it. Soon enough, she learned that the white one was blowing money he won through a gambling racket he organized at Thors campus. The subject of the bet was an arts duel the harmless one won with five to one odds against her. The victory secured her some kind of spot which made her the highest ranking cadet at the officer school.

How curious. Their method to choose authority was pretty much the Jaeger way.

Fie looked at the girl-like woman named Towa. Perhaps she should revise her opinion about her threat level. The way the other three deferred to her reminded her of the way Xeno, Leo, Cynthia, Kirsi and the other battalion commanders hovered around the Boss, being sucked in by the man's charisma.

"Fie, is it?", the small brunette spoke up, her eyes full of warmth. "I don't know whether instructor Sara told you, but the four of us were the trial group for the experimental class which you are going to be a part of. If you have any questions about Class VII, please, don't be a stranger."

She tilted her head. "Class VII?"

The brunette narrowed her eyes again. "The one mixing the social classes. It also contains quite a hefty curriculum."

Fie looked at Instructor Sara, her expression deadpan. Then she looked back at Towa.

The diminutive woman put a hand to her face, sighing deeply. "Instructor Sara, you didn't tell her anything?"

Sara sounded hesitant. "I thought the whole idea was supposed to be a surprise."

Fie's eyebrow twitched. She noted with some amusement how the petite brunette mirrored her reaction.

"Yes it was, to avoid spooking the graduates born into the Erebonian class system," Towa groused, punctuating every word. "But this is clearly not the case with Fie here. Despite her dossier being redacted to the degree there is more black than white, it's clear she's an orphan without a firm nationality who recently lost her adoptive family and needs some new direction in her life. As her official guardian with insight into her background and the program, it should have been your responsibility to lay out her future options openly and in advance. Especially because her being a newcomer into Erebonia's educational system means she needs to be eased into an environment alien to her."

Sara gulped. "I'm sorry!" she whimpered.

Towa turned towards her, her severe expression softening. Then she turned back to Sara, her whole demeanor pure steel, her voice cracking out like a whip. "I'm not the one you should be apologizing to, instructor!"

She felt a sudden, potent spike of killing intent. Her hands snaked towards her weapons on instinct, while the rest of the table was stunned stiff.

Was that her? Fie gulped. Going from harmless chipmunk to killer shining pom in the fraction of a second. So there was a good reason she was in charge. The former little Jaeger nodded imperceptibly. The world was starting to make sense again. Then she fixed her gaze on Sara, drinking in the sight of her being cowed to submission.

"I apologize Fie," the Bracer said, her posture despondent and rueful. "I didn't think things through. I will explain everything once we are back home. Okay?"

It took all of Fie's considerable self-control not to smirk. "Okay."

Shortly after, the food was served and the little Ex-Jaeger found her attention drawn to sating her appetite. She dug in with gusto, the food turning out to be the most delicious meal she had eaten in a long time. The warmth of conversation and laughter gave the experience a particular spice. While she opted to simply listen, she felt surprisingly content.

"So, Gelica, George," the white one named Crow spoke, "anything interesting to tell from your field exercise?"

Angelica played with her mug of beer. "We got to see the new Haubitzer artillery models in action. They are quite the sight."

Towa wrapped a lock of hair around her finger, her face thoughtful. "What makes them exceptional?"

The heavyset guy scratched his cap. "They are pretty amazing - and frightening due to their mobility. The only mobile artillery until now were the infamous Railway Guns at Garrelia, but those were confined to the tracks. The Haubitzer on the other hand combines the terrain traversal of actual tanks with the bombarding capacity of the former Geschütz models. They are only half as fast as an Achtzehn, but they can cross the same kind of terrain. They also need to be fortified to the ground before shooting, but the ground attachment is built into the unit itself."

Crow scowled. "So the Empire is going to field another new innovation in war-making, courtesy of the Reinford group, your trusted vendor for tools of death."

Fie wasn't sure where the guy's distaste came from. If what the engineer guy said was true, the Haubitzer models were one hell of a strategic improvement. She had to dash through Geschütz bombardment often enough to respect their fire power.

"Keep the sarcasm down, will you Crow?" Angelica rebuked. "Reinford manufactures much more than weapons these days. We are going to be involved with the military one way or the other, so having big guns on our side is quite a reassurance."

"Angie, as a friend of the Reinford family, you feel the need to come to their defense," Towa said, "and I really respect your loyalty. But from an objective standpoint I have to agree with Crow. It's worrying, when the Empire continues to field these kind of weapons. Erebonia is already the uncontested military superpower on the continent. Why is there any need to widen the gap further?"

The leather clad woman sighed, her expression losing any trace of playfulness. "The answer to this question should be clear."

A pregnant silence fell on the table, stifling the merry mood. Fie suspected politics, but her belly was full and as interesting as the talk about the Haubitzer was, she couldn't care less about governments or old geezers squabbling about who got to rule. "Can I get dessert?"

A girl needed to have her priorities straight.

Crow laughed, the heavy atmosphere dispersing again. "Sure little Jaeger, knock yourself out."

She paused, tilting her head again. She didn' know how the guy figured it out, but he was good.

The others were not as fast on the uptake, given their surprised reactions.

Sara folded her arms. "Sometimes, you are entirely too smart for your own good, Crow."

He put his hands behind the back of his head, smirking. "Yes, yes, praise me! I know I'm smart, but hearing others confirm it is balm for my ego."

Angelica rolled her eyes. "Please hold yourself back, instructor. His ego is already inflated. If you continue to stroke it, it will burst like a bubble." Then she turned to Fie, a playful smile blossoming across her lips. "So you are actually a warrior, huh? Cute and deadly, the goddess truly be blessed. How about a one-to-one spar then, little kitty? The Thors gym has everything a fighting enthusiast could possibly need." She winked. "We could get sweaty - together."

The other three on the table either groaned or face palmed. Sara the traitor however, simply leaned back in her seat, beer in hand as if she was enjoying a particularly funny skit. Fie felt some curiosity welling up, but her instincts had never steered her wrong. "I refuse," she deadpanned.

The boisterous woman shrugged her shoulders. "The best ones always play hard to get."

She decided to ignore her, turning to Crow instead. "How did you figure it out?"

"Your weapons. Gunblades aren't exactly run of the mill. Some say exotic hybrid weapons are a hallmark of elite Jaeger corps. Besides, the handle belongs to a Sidewinder Mk III revolver of Verne make. Not something an Erebonian would carry around. The Sidewinder is also a combined small arms which utilizes gunpowder, orbal energy and shoots septium-modded ammo. It's a weapon no respectable Bracer would ever touch, what with their non-killing policy." He smirked. "How did I do?"

This time Fie couldn't help but return the smirk. "Pretty good, but I customized my Sidewinder model with ZCF Ifrix parts, for better orbal energy conduction." She drew her trusty gunblades, twirled them playfully and laid them out on the table. None of those present flinched or threw her strange looks, accepting her like it was par of the course. Crow whistled, while Towa and George studied her tools of trade with interest.

The ensuing discussion continued until deep into the evening. For the first time in a long while, Fie actually felt like there was something to look forward to.

* * *

****Apex85: I'm not surprised you find Osborne's educational decrees perfectly reasonable. They are pretty close to our modern understanding of compulsory education (abbreviated CE). I would like to add though that historically the issue of widespread education for anyone is far from being clear cut. Great Britain for example only introduced a law for CE in the 1880s, about 50 years (according to some scholars) after the beginning of their own Industrial Revolution. The reason for this late development, funnily enough, was because the nobles were protecting their old class privilege. Sounds familiar, doesn't it?****

****Germany is an even more complex issue. Prussia introduced a combination of CE and compulsory _attendance _in the late 18th century, basically the first nation ever to do so. During the formation of the Second Reich 1871, when Prussia became only one of many nations (though a crucial one) to form the so called "kleindeutsche Lösung", together with other nations like Bavaria, Schleswig, Württemberg and so on, there was no unification of the educational system at all with Prussia still being one of few territories with a truly modern form of CE. It took until the founding of the Weimarer Republik 1919, the beginning of the Third Reich, until the whole of Germany had CE codified into their constitution. The Industrial Revolution in Germany took off in 1849. Do the math.****

****JohnJoestar17: I would like to point out that Osborne giving the Bracer Guild the boot in Erebonia is pretty much canon. The Church is something I added, but which I think is still in character. The Chancellor is shown in the games to be a supremely well informed character, so we can be certain he knows about the Septian Church's hidden side aka the Congregation for the Sacraments. I think that's motivation enough for the man to try to reduce the Church's foothold in Erebonia, though I would also like to point out that I make him do so in a more subtle manner compared to the Guild. The Epstein foundation on the other hand... that's a case of Gideon overshooting his mark. Political philosophy isn't a hard science and prone to ambiguity and in this case he's simply overreacting. To be honest, it may sound like a cheap excuse and I wouldn't blame you for thinking so, but in my story, even smart characters making statements about their fields of expertise aren't infallible. It's one of many reasons the story is titled 'Outside the Fairy Tale'.  
****

****Last but not least, your remark about the Imperial Chronicle (abbreviated IC). You say that the IC is pro-Nobility in canon, which is correct but only in a limited context. Let me elaborate: In my story I didn't intend to show the IC as pro-Reformist per se, but as Crow puts it 'sycophants who write in favor of whoever holds the power in Heimdallr'. In ToCS2 when the Noble faction sacks the capital and takes the Imperial family plus the governor hostage, the IC pretty much turns into the Noble faction's propaganda piece, their partiality so blatant, it pained me to read the issues. But what about peace time, when Chancellor Osborne was the one dictating Heimdallr politics? If you look at the IC issues from ToCS1, you will see that the reports are actually pretty balanced with the journalists trying to maintain an air of impartiality. Personally, I think they (the journalists in canon) failed, with the IC issues from CS1 showing a slight bias in favor of the Reformists. IC issues number 1, 2 and 8 have pretty clear examples of the editors discarding an objective reporting style and injecting their personal opinions, usually in the form of praising Osborne outright. There is even an in-game book written by Marcel Nielsen found in the Thors Library titled 'The Media: Generational Conflicts' which details the IC's one hundred year history, beginning with the newspaper being a sole media for the nobility, but forced to change their focus once the Reformists under Osborne took the reins. The author even speculates that the IC in canon actually prints two different versions, one for Heimdallr, the other for the provinces, allowing them to pander to two different audiences.****


	4. The Beginning of Class VII

**Thors Officer School - ToCS1 Outside the Fairytale**

**A/N: ** **This chapter should make it abundantly clear just how different my version of Thors is compared to canon. The chapter also grew, and grew, and grew, because my mind didn't stop to come up with additional head canon. ****Rean also makes his debut and seriously, the guy is difficult to write. From now on, thanks to the suggestions of reviewers Apex85 and rikotch, I will add explanations for specialized terms at the end of the chapter. And thanks for the new reviews, followers and favorites.**

**Chapter 4 The Beginning of Class VII**

_Hello Rean,_

_it's been about two years since we last met each other face to face. My, how time flies. Your father has send me a letter about your tenure at that military academy in Roer, bragging about your accomplishments and how you have grown. I mean, without others bragging for you, you sure aren't going to come forward to talk about your own deeds. Instead you dismiss them as something to be taken for granted by others and the world around you._

_Kindness, a helping hand that stems from the heart, are never to be taken for granted. Not even yours, as hard as it is for you to wrap your obstinate head around the thought. So give yourself some credit._

_I've been wandering the lands of the East the last few years, drinking in the breath and beauty of the landscape, enjoying some adventures, rescuing a pretty damsel here and there. Believe me when I say that this old man still hasn't lost his touch with the ladies. But all ribaldry aside, the situation is dire. Desertification continues to encroach on soil which once carried the bounty of life and the pulse of the Dragon Stream is erratic. But don't worry about it. Your master is keeping an eye on the situation. Once things calm down, I'll make a stint to Erebonia again. Perhaps visit this officer school you're attending, catch up with an old friend, take in the sights and flirt with the pretty lady officers there. If you are diligent until then, I will show you some advanced techniques._

_Oh right, sword fencing. As you see, I have attached three scrolls to my little package. They shall instruct you in the Way of Strategy in accordance to Hachiyou Itto Ryu, guiding you to the intermediate level. The scrolls are numbered. Begin by reading the first, working your way up to the third. Only open the following scroll if you are sure to have understood the contents of the former._

_I'm going to let you in on a little secret: The basic teachings are always the same, but when it comes to intermediate instructions, I tailor them to the respective student. I take so few of you under my wing, coming up with an improvised curriculum for you all doesn't even count as work. Your case is special though, for I have nudged you to follow the Seventh Form, the most elusive of all… except the Eighth of course. But even I haven't mastered that one and I probably never will._

_Back to the Seventh Form. Wielding this one is not a matter of physical strength, dexterity, speed, skill or even a honed mind for tactical and strategic thought. The core of the Form cannot be conveyed by words. Still, as long as you take the instructions I send you to heart, you shall come closer to reaching the true meaning of Void._

_As for me stopping your instructions back then, it wasn't because I considered you unworthy. Looking back though, that was probably how you perceived it. Part of it was due to yourself blocking your own approach, your fear of your Ogre Form was it? Another part was that teaching the Void Form is a delicate process. Something easily ruined by brute force training. Different than nearly all other martial styles from the East, it is not a mere accumulation of relentless training and unbroken dedication. It goes against the simple mold of Gongfu, which is widely spread in my culture. But curiously enough the Seventh also doesn't reveal its secrets to the heavenly gifted, the Tiancai who so often find shortcuts to martial mastery._

_No, the Void is empty and formless, it cannot be grasped, it cannot be forced, it cannot be perceived._

_Think about this carefully and don't be frustrated. As far as I can judge, your time at the academy brought you much closer to the truth of the Seventh than mere instruction in sword-fencing ever could._

_You are already walking the correct Path._

_Don't stray from it._

_Sincerely yours, Yun Ka-Fai_

Rean folded the letter and put it back into the envelope, mind and emotions racing. Seems like all the time he considered himself a mere quitter of the Eight Leaves One Blade School, he supposedly never left the Path? He had never stopped to train with the blade, clinging to the thought of being a mere swordsman with a smidgen of skill. By attending Baldurs military academy, it was inevitable he had to step outside the Way of the Sword. Instructions in military issued firearms. Mounted combat. He even dabbled in Court Fencing.

He was so desperate to find something he could make his own, changing clubs on the fly, trying to submerge himself in all manners of skills without ever committing. All the while he was haunted by the nagging thought that he was diluting and staining the teachings of the Eight Leaves. He ended up as the universal gofer for Baldurs academy, gently steered by student council president Towa. He cracked a smile when his mind wandered to the diminutive girl with a big heart and a bigger workload. He hoped she learned to take it a little bit easier at Thors, but…

Nah, who was he kidding?

Still, Master Ka-Fai claimed him doing all the random stuff during his two year tenure was in truth exactly what he needed to do? He stroked his chin. It wasn't until he read the letter he became aware of being on any specific Path of the Eight Leaves at all, but the legendary Seventh? That boggled the mind. To his knowledge the only practitioner who had truly mastered the Void Form was the founder himself. It was said that mastering the Seventh unlocked the secrets of the six forms preceding it. At least now, he understood why Master Ka-Fai was so circumspect concerning his questions about his training progress. As the letter correctly surmised, he took it as a dismissal, as the 'Sword Hermit' letting him down gently. A foolish boy with delusions of grandeur, thinking himself fit of receiving the instructions of a living legend.

If Master Ka-Fai told him back then he was rearing him to follow the Seventh? He would have freaked. Heck, even now he was clamping down on his emotions, so he wouldn't freak. He understood himself well enough to know his mind back then would have conjured all manners of rationalizations about why he was unfit for the highest secret of the Eighth Leaves. He would have turned into his own worst enemy – again.

He never ceased to trouble the people close to him.

Rean looked with a mix of longing and trepidation at the three inconspicuous scrolls made of rice paper,. They were numbered with black ink from a calligraphy brush. Should he open the first?

"The next stop is Trista. Trista. The Ministry of Railway thanks you for your patronage and wishes you a good day."

Seems like time was not on his side. The black haired young man packed his belongings. There was the ceremonial uniform he would change into when he reached Thors, his trusty tachi as well as a couple of letters. In addition there were three personal notebooks and the instruction scrolls. He secured everything in his backpack except the blade and readied himself to leave. He walked across the wagon, each step carefully placed to compensate for the slight shifts in inertia as the vehicle thundered across the rail tracks. He came across a young mother, holding her infant son in one arm and hefting a big piece of luggage in her other. He offered to help her carry it outside the train, an offer she gladly accepted.

"Ma'am, you should brace yourself. The train is going to brake."

Luckily the young mother did as he instructed. Rean simply shifted his body weight, all the while standing ramrod straight and as immovable as a rock, impervious to the inertia. The train stopped, the doors opened and after he carried out the luggage, he politely accepted the young mother's gratitude. Then he straightened himself and walked towards the exit of Trista Station. He continued to observe the other cadets wearing Thors uniforms. Mostly green, some white, but he saw none wearing red.

How curious.

His ruminations came to an abrupt hold as he finally entered Trista proper, his gaze drawn to the row of Lino trees in full bloom. Rean stopped and drank in the sight before him. The vitality of the flowers were almost palpable, the blindingly white petals falling down like snow. The trees seemed to pulse with life each time a gust of wind caused another wave of petals to loosen themselves streaming across the air like the breath of spring.

Rean closed his eyes and inhaled, imbibing the tasty air. Each breath he drew allowed him to partake in the vibrancy suffusing his environment. It filled him with the energy of life and creation. He changed his breathing rhythm, directing his Ki to flow from the base of his stomach upwards to the solar plexus. From there he let it disperse across his upper body, loosening any tension he acquired during the long train ride.

Another breath, another wave of energy coursing through him. Rean expanded his perception, his skin sensing the minuscule movements of the air, his nose smelling the up and down of Lino fragrance, his ears catching the steps of travelers leaving the station. He concentrated, creating an image, a three-dimensional quartz-picture of the world outside himself. His honed senses told him of movements in his immediate surrounding – and warning him that someone was about to run into his back.

Rean performed a forward Tai Sabaki, a three step maneuver, placing himself away from a collision course. A gentle brush across his cheek told him that the person he avoided had long, flowing hair.

"What?" He heard a soft gasp, felt the individual turning to face him. Well, it was probably the polite thing to open his eyes now. Seems like she was intent on conversation.

"Rean? Is that you?" And just like that, the energy flow he gathered inside his body spiraled out of control. The preternatural calm he grasped shattered like cheap china.

"A-Alisa?"

There she was, like the last time he saw her. The same wheat blond hair, glittering in the sun like spun gold, the same red eyes, shining like polished Carnelia. Her beautiful figure dressed in the same red uniform as him, though she sported a red skirt instead of black pants.

"Long time no see?" She sounded as nervous as he felt.

"Yeah, you are right, long time no see. I mean, what is it? Two months already?"

Oh Aidios, could he become any lamer?

"Yeah," she stuttered, "I guess so?"

Their conversation came to a grinding halt, the silence between them so awkward, that Rean wished the ground would swallow him up.

After another couple seconds of zero communication, Alisa spoke up again: "So you really applied for Thors. Still, I'm glad I'm not the only one wearing this red uniform."

And here she was, addressing the proverbial elephant in the room. Rean scratched his cheek. "Do you think we will end up in the same class?"

He could see the conflict flickering across her face. Not that he felt any different. "Very likely. Though a good part of officer school curriculum are electives. There's the possibility we both ended up part of a special program. Mother hinted at something, but I don't know the details."

Didn't that sound intriguing, or perhaps ominous would be more appropriate?

"Seems like you already know more about our situation than I do." He scratched his head. "Thanks for the heads up."

She made a motion with her head that barely resembled a nod. "Well, if you don't mind I'll be going ahead. Sorry for disturbing your flower viewing."

"Not at all, you didn't disturb anything, but yeah, it would be best if you go ahead. See you later, probably."

"Probably. But take care not to be late. You tend to lose your sense of time when you focus on something."

Rean chuckled though it sounded like an awkward mess to him. "You know me too well, Alisa. Till later."

"Bye", she muttered. Then she stalked off, her blurring steps carrying her away quickly.

Rean slumped his shoulders, sighing as deeply as the bottom of the ocean. This was some kind of cruel joke, right? Or did the bad karma he accumulated in a previous life demanded payback now?

What were the chances, after all, of being placed in the same course program as his ex-girlfriend? He grimaced as he thought back to Master Ka-Fai's letter. Right now, he wished the Sword Hermit could spare some of his overflowing smoothness with the ladies for his unfortunate pupil.

He shook his head. Enough with the self-pity. He had an entrance ceremony to attend.

Rean went into the park, the Lino petals forgotten. He watched elderly, children and even couples relax on park benches. To his surprise, he also discovered another cadet wearing red. A petite girl on the cusp of womanhood, silvery white hair streaked wildly about her. Her lithe form was stretched out on the bench, her chin resting on her folded hands.

He scratched his head. Was she sleeping? He closed his eyes, probing for her presence, surprised how little she registered on his senses. He opened his eyes again. While obscured by the red skirt, she had something strapped to her right thigh. Throwing knifes? The combat boots she wore were steel tipped and were those leather holsters at the small of her back?

She certainly came prepared.

The young woman woke up yawning, her arms outstretched and her back arced in an impressive display of flexibility. Rean wasn't fooled. Even with her eyes closed and her front unguarded, her body was coiled like a spring. Then she opened her eyes, a greenish yellow or a yellowish green? She tilted her head, with both of them taking the continued measure of their opposite.

"You are another one, huh?", she mumbled, her voice lacking any inflection. Was she talking about the color of their uniforms?

He wanted to speak up, but her continued alertness cautioned him to stay silent.

Then, in a motion so impossibly smooth he couldn't tell beginning from end, she arced her upper body back again, her left arm bent behind her shoulders with her single hand grabbing the top of the bench. Without any visible exertion, as if the concept of body weight was foreign to her, her whole body raised itself from a half-prone position to an elegant one-handed back-flip, the transition from landing to walking indiscernible.

"See you!", she said, her back already turned towards him. No change in the rhythm or deepness of her breathing. She stalked away at a brisk pace, her steps making no sound at all.

Dual pistols? No, the barrel shape was off. Rean couldn't help but feel intrigued. She seemed to be quite a unique one, but wondering about her wasn't going to do him any good at the moment. Once their class settled, he had all the time in the world to get to know her. Thinking about her looks, he admittedly wouldn't mind.

Rean groaned at his feeble mindedness. He needed to get his head out of the gutter.

The rest of the way until the entrance to Thors was traversed quickly, with Rean taking in the sights. For a moment, he struggled with the idea of visiting the church for a short spell. While he didn't consider himself overly devout, a quick prayer to the goddess had never steered anybody wrong. The solemn atmosphere inside the house of Aidios could as well be what he needed to calm down his emotions, to free himself from the trepidation gripping his chest. As he was about to step in, the entrance opened and a tall figure stepped out. He was wearing another set of the distinct Thors uniform.

It was a person Rean recognized from his time at Baldurs. "Hey Gaius, how do you do?"

"Well, if it isn't Rean," the Nord denizen replied in his smooth, calming baritone. His face only showed about two seconds of mild surprise, before his handsome features settled into his trademark expression of friendly unflappability. "I was afraid to be the only one wearing this red uniform."

Rean laughed, meeting Gaius halfway to the church. He stretched out his hand and was welcomed with a firm grip. "You took the words right out of my mouth."

The young man from the plains nodded. "You wanted to pray at the church right? It's a nice quiet chapel. Don't let me prevent you from speaking to the goddess."

Rean scratched his head, his laugh sounding awkward again. "I mainly wanted to calm myself down, nerves and all, but now that I've met you, would you mind walking to Thors together?"

"Why not?" Both of them turned their backs to the chapel and continued their trek towards the hallowed institution. The road started to rise up in a soft incline with the entrance gate visible. "I was wondering Rean, but isn't red quite a significant color here in the Empire?"

The young swordsman nodded. "Red is usually associated with the Imperial Family." He raised his left arm and scrutinized it. "But the hue isn't quite the same as the Imperial Crimson."

Gaius nodded attentively. "Still, even if the hue is different, there is symbolic value here, isn't it? I mean, combined with the small numbers of people wearing it, it gives the impression of exclusivity."

Rean couldn't agree more. "I did encounter two other people wearing these uniforms, but pitted against the hundreds of students in the regular colors, it's astonishingly little."

Gaius interest was piqued. "What kind of people were they?"

Rean sighed. "Alisa is one them."

"The Reinford heiress?"

"The very same."

The nomad took in the information with the same stoicism he absorbed everything else. Sometimes Rean envied his fellow youth for the resilience he displayed in body and mind. "And the other person?"

"A white haired girl." Then he thought back. "Let's call her a young woman, but she seems to be a year or two younger than the usual age for, well, attending Thors. She also seemed...", he struggled for words, "I don't know, wild? Feral? She wasn't exactly showing it, but I felt something animalistic from her."

Gaius quirked an eyebrow. "Interesting. Coming from you, there's probably some basis to your impression."

Rean scratched his cheek. "You are giving me too much credit. I'm just rambling."

"Hardly. We didn't cross paths that often at Baldur's, but the student council regularly talked about your 'discerning eye'. Besides, I bore witness to it myself once. You have a knack for seeing right into the core of things."

Before Rean could respond, both young men finally overcame the slope and received an unobstructed view at Thors campus, the buildings bearing down on them in their majesty.

The place was a fortress. The masonry was exquisite, the walls and guard towers decorated with horses and lion-heads. Additional adornments in the form of stylized letters and swords were carved into the stonework, giving it a fairly sophisticated look. Even so, It didn't detract from the sheer brutal functionality of the design, what with the walls about nine to ten arge high, crenelated and castellated. The guard towers interspersed there were of solid construction reinforced with steel plating and concrete. Orbal cannons were jutting out like gigantic blackened fingers, ready to unleash their lethal payload. The entrance was as broad as the road leading here, enough space for two heavy tanks to drive beside each other.

The campus itself was a curious mixture of old and new, of dignified opulence and cold pragmatism. The ground was paved for the most part, aside from some strategically placed greenery, with the main building dominating the view. Rean looked up, taking in the sight of the architectural front. Rose windows with a pointed arch, sections with projected alcoves, sculpted columns studding the walls. A tower rose at least sixty arge high, the centerpiece of a squarish layout.

As they came closer more details became visible. He saw life sized statuary placed atop the main portal. It was typical Gothic style architecture, less ostentatious compared to governmental buildings or churches, but still more artistic flourish than he expected from the military.

"Wait, how can this be?" Gaius spoke up, his voice trembling. "One of these statues depicts a Nord Warrior."

Rean looked up. "Oh, these are the Seven Worthies. They are pretty famous here in Erebonia."

"I guess the Nord Warrior we see here is among those who accompanied Dreichels during the War of the Lions?"

"Yeah. That's Zeo Calez, the Storm Rider, who represents the virtue of Justice."

Gaius face lit up, his voice reverent. "Zeo is one of our most esteemed tribal heroes." He smiled softly. "And when you mentioned Justice, are you referring to the four cardinal and three theological virtues of the Septian Scriptures?"

Rean chuckled. "Yeah, correct. I'm not surprised a devout church goer like you noticed it."

"Nah, just something I picked up from a wandering priest. But I'm curious now - who are the others and what do they represent?" The Nord denizen narrowed his eyes. "Though I can take an educated guess who the woman in the middle is."

The swordsman nodded. "Saint Lianne Sandlot, the Lance Maiden. Her ascribed virtue is Hope. To be honest, I've forgotten the exact story how the Seven Worthies were chosen and how the symbolism got mixed up with Church teachings. Here in the Empire, they are thought to exemplify the pinnacle of either chivalric or moral virtue."

He stroked his chin. "Let's see whether I can list them all - The guy at the left with the ridiculous sword and the coin pouch should be Zektor Argastos, the Mercenary King. His Virtue is Courage. Zeo is next in line and the woman in robes beside him is Saint Veronica, who represents Charity. Saint Sandlot is the one in the middle and the priest beside her is Saint Quirinus. Faith. At his right is Saphrato, the antique philosopher. The toga and scroll is pretty distinct. He represents Prudence. That leaves the guy with the crossbow furthest at the right. Reginald Istari, the Warrior Monk. Temperance."

"To see a hero of Nord displayed along such legends." Gaius sounded proud. "Once again, it becomes clear how deeply the histories of both our people are intertwined. I thank you for telling me all this, Rean."

The black haired youth smiled. "No issue. I haven't done much. Though, I'm interested in stories about Zeo. His accomplishments during the civil war 250 years ago are pretty well recorded. Unfortunately, the history books have almost nothing to say about the life he lived with his own people."

Gaius smiled back. "It will be an honor to share my tribe's stories with you. We will probably end up in the same class or project so there should be ample opportunity in the future." He took out his combat orbment and looked at the time. "But we should hurry, before the entrance ceremony starts without us."

They turned away from the main building's portal in amicable silence. They were supposed to arrive at the barracks first, change into ceremonial garb, followed by going to the Auditorium.

The campus barracks turned out to be an utilitarian building consisting of steel, concrete and not much else. A steady stream of fresh cadets were ushered inside by commissioned officers, while their personal weapons were taken into storage by a gaggle of adjutants.

As Rean and Gaius came close, both of them were waved nearer by a female navy officer with a thick braid of dark brown hair. She wore the insignia of a Lieutenant Commander. Both cadets saluted.

"Cadet Schwarzer reporting."

"Cadet Worzel reporting."

"Quartermaster Anne Leuventhal. At ease."

She smirked as if she was enjoying a private joke. "The two of you should be the last of the Red Jackets. You are carrying your ceremonial garb?" Both of them nodded. "Good. Then kindly pass me your weapons and your combat orbments."

Rean furrowed his brows. "If I may be so bold to ask, ma'am, is there are reason we are required to give up our orbments? The other cadets are only asked to pass their armaments."

The statuesque woman folded her arms. "Yes, there's a reason, cadet Schwarzer. And no, I'm not going to tell you. All will be revealed in due time. Now get a move on. You are already running late."

"Yes ma'am!" Both of them answered and did as they were told. After that they were led into the barracks. The inside looked as spartan as the outside, harsh walls painted in gray as well as drab, unadorned doors. They followed the other male cadets, until they ended up in a changing room. Once inside, they encountered another person in red, a short youth with a friendly face and hair the color of carrots, which he tied in a small ponytail. He was already changed except for the decorative saber he was fiddling with. Rean showed his fellow cadet how to attach the blade while changing out of the regular uniform. The youth was called Elliot Craig and he seemed as clueless about the meaning of their uniforms as Rean and Gaius. Soon enough, they fell into easy chatter, their easygoing personalities meshing well with each other.

All three hurried together to the Auditorium which turned out to be another fancy structure. This time, Rean didn't find it in him to look at further architectural details. He found his mind embroiled with the atmosphere of the wide room, the anticipation of the many people brimming with a kind of palpable energy. It made it difficult to concentrate, the pressure of wild swirling emotions choking his heart. There were no chairs. All the fresh cadets were told to stand at parade rest.

Then the doors to the Auditorium opened in full, revealing a procession of men and women wearing either the white of the Provincial or the violet of the Imperial Army. What they all had in common though, was the badge of the golden eagle. The elite of the elite, members of the Imperial General Staff Office. This group of Erebonian top brass were further headed by three people of high prominence: Minister of Defense, Ingrid Rorschach, former director of Reinford's second factory division, Thors principal Tristan Vandyke, former supreme commander of the Imperial Army as well as his successor, current General Field Marshal Erwin von Richthofen.

"Cadets, ATTENTION!"

Over three hundred people straightened themselves, herded by the roar from the Master of Ceremony.

"Salute!"

A stream of rustling was heard as the junior officers raised their right arm to follow the directive.

The procession entered the stage with the staff officers fanning out. Principal Vandyke was the first to use the podium, while Field Marshal Richthofen and Minister Rorschach stood behind him. The man playfully tipped against the microphone, producing some static. Then he leaned forward, his herculean form looming over the wooden construct, a mere toy furniture in light of the man's massive frame.

"Welcome, fresh cadets, to the 220th entrance ceremony of Thors Officer School. Oh, and be at ease, please." His voice sounded gravelly, but warm, almost grandfatherly. More than three hundred people in the room ceased their salute. "I'm glad to see so many new faces ready to tackle the educational experience this institution has to offer. Thors was founded by Dreichels the Lionheart himself and began as a military academy. Over the decades, it has spawned similar institutions located at key cities across the Erebonian Empire. Yet the original seed planted by Dreichels continues to play a special role until today. Ninety years ago, with the establishment of the Imperial General Staff Office, often called the nervous system of the Erebonian military, the demands for officers and their skill set changed drastically.

From then on, old type military leadership, which hinged on feat of arms, dominance play and sheer charisma, needed to co-exist beside a new type of leadership that emphasized rationality, exhaustive planning and intellectual sophistication. As the original seed planted by Dreichels himself, Thors once again served as a hotbed for innovation. To meet the demands of the time, it became the first and until today singular Officer School in Erebonia. It offers a curriculum which combines cutting-edge knowledge from all disciplines with the ever evolving field of military science.

When the Orbal Revolution began fifty years ago, it also led to the mechanization of the army. While this development has reduced the demand for common soldiers, the need for highly educated officers, who can keep up with the increasing pace of technology, has become even greater. The course and graduate system here at Thors reflects this. The electives here on campus are varied and allows the cadets to tailor their curriculum along their individual strength. As a further point, instead of forcing the same length of education on every single person, the common duration until graduation is one year. For a cadet to attend Thors a second year, the individual needs to display excellent conduct and higher than average grades. As a result, someone who graduates after two years can hope to climb the ranks much faster. But it is only the exceptional attendee who is granted the honor of a third year. These individuals are subjected to grueling course work and tasks which push the limits of human intellectual and physical capability. If they persevere, they have the option of becoming a prospective member of the Imperial General Staff Office immediately."

A hush went through the mass of cadets, with different emotions colliding across the hall. Rean himself didn't think much about the lure of fast promotion. There was no way he would ever be a candidate for a second year at Thors, after all.

Meanwhile, principal Vandyke had changed his place with the Defense Minister. Some belated applause was heard, but even Rean only clapped a few times for politeness sake. The speech was more informative than inspirational. The way the principal cut it off made it clear it was just the beginning act. Minister Rorschach cleared her throat, drawing the hall's attention to herself. She wore a charcoal colored business suit with a severe, almost military cut. Her white hair was styled in a pragmatic bob.

"There is this famous aphorism: 'War is the continuation of politics by other means'." The woman's voice reflected her looks, a hard alto, her intonation that of a practiced orator. "I don't have a military background, so I won't be taken as seriously by my listeners here by default. As such, I start this speech with Phillipp Gottfried's famous quote, to remind you all how the military is a part of a much larger system. There is of course the weapons industry, a branch I'm intimately familiar with. Then there is the government, its diverse institutions, the mass media. All intricate parts like those found in a combat orbment, every single one indispensable to make everything function as a whole. If you cadets deem the aforementioned aphorism to be true, you accept that every high ranking officer is a political entity. An officer's burden of leadership doesn't just affect the lives of his subordinates. It is at the same time an expression of Erebonian policy.

I'm glad to say Thors as an institution prepares its cadets for this kind of responsibility. Today, a military officer isn't measured solely by his competence in war making, but also his or her diplomatic acumen. Your future conduct, cadets, your every gesture and word reflects on Erebonia and may be subject to the same kind of scrutiny as that of a high ranking politician, especially the moment you deal with outside forces. Keep this in mind and be prepared."

Rean furrowed his brows as he joined in the modest applause. Somehow, the minister's words were to be expected from a career politician. Flipping them around boiled down to her telling the cadets they had to take care not to embarrass the Erebonian government. To save face, if he were to use an Eastern concept.

As Field Marshal Richthofen took his position before the speaker podium, every hush and whisper among the more than three hundred cadets died down. The silence was so absolute one could have heard a single pin drop, the suspense thick enough to cut it. The current supreme leader of the Imperial Army, barring the Emperor's and High Chancellor's commanding authority, stood in stark contrast to his predecessor. Where principal Vandyck looked like an old god of antique pagan myths, his physique almost comically huge and muscled, Richthofen was slender, his shoulders slightly hunched. He carried himself with the typical posture of a swordsman. The Field Marshal was comparably young, with only small frostings of white on his otherwise black hair. His face was smooth, but ascetic. His expression carried a hint of perpetual melancholy contrasting Vandyck's open and friendly visage.

"Arise O youth, and become the foundation of the new world." The man chuckled ruefully. "You should know these words by heart now. This motto is part and parcel of every opening speech held by every principal of every military academy across Erebonia."

He shrugged, the motion playful with a smidgen of irreverence. "Tradition can be so predictable."

"But back on topic. Erebonia culture loves its ritualistic dribble. Too often, Dreichels' mandate ends up as lip service to the vaunted tradition of our country. Empty words uttered for the sake of uttering them, their true meaning ignored." He leaned forward, his voice rising in volume. "Let's put some facts on the table, shall we? The average age of every Imperial Army officer above the rank of Colonel is 48 years. If we look at the same age average while confining ourselves to the rank bracket between major and colonel we get 37 years. Think about it the next time, when some self-important military speaker has the temerity to spout some bullshit about the world being the domain of the young.

On the surface the provincial armies have a better track record in this regard. I won't further bore you with numbers, but a couple of their most notorious and influential officers are only in their late twenties. I'm a pretty good example myself, being given the responsibility and honor of the highest military rank in the Imperial Army at the tender age of 35. And let us be honest here. Neither accomplishments nor competence is the true reason I get to occupy the office of Field Marshal with a seventeen year difference compared to my predecessor. If anything, my accomplishments pale when pitted against Vandyke's own. But in case of Thors' honored principal this is the price of being a commoner in Erebonia."

He slammed down his fist, the sound reverberating throughout the hall. "A waste, I say!"

"Some of you are probably asking yourselves, why is youth so important? Isn't it irresponsible to put young people in position of true power and influence? Don't they lack the experience, the wisdom, the prudence of old age? Well, the argument is a valid one and I'm not claiming to remove the members of the old guard. Their wisdom has worth and old age is very valuable in tempering the brashness of youth. Still, when it comes to military matters, or all matters that involves the unpredictability and irrationality of human nature, prudence and foresight can only carry you so far. And here is where the most important feature of youth shines forth: Malleability. The ability, the will, the drive to mold yourself in accordance to the obstacles and barriers the world throws at you. In today's world, fifty years after the Orbal Revolution, when new military technology is churned out several times a year, when international relations in politics become increasingly complex and intertwined, this malleability is even more crucial. To quote the core philosophy of my grandfather, who was the core architect of the Imperial General Staff Office:

'No plan of operations extends with certainty beyond the first encounter with the enemy's main strength.'

What it boils down to is that we as military officers deal with uncertainty as a matter of course. Our job is to be ready for the unknown and even here we have different flavors. There's the known unknown and the unknown unknown. As a member of the nobility, I'm well aware of their usual rhetoric. The nobles have been in charge of Erebonian society for a long time which justifies their continued privileges, for the hindsight of centuries somehow enables people like me to see the best course of action for the next hundred years.

I say it loud and clear: This is Intellectual hubris. An epistemological fallacy. Mental laziness. Tell me: Where was the vaunted wisdom of the nobility, when the Orbal Revolution took off fifty years ago? Did they possess the magical foresight to predict the sheer scope of consequences when a simple researcher from Leman State invented the first combat orbment? Or did we, like every other nation on Zemuria simply rode on the coattails of the Epstein Foundation and its chief disciples, all the while stumbling along the way? Where was the prodigious insight of the old guard, the prudence of old age during the Hundred Days War, when Liberl turned the tables on us by taking the battlefield to the third dimension? Did anybody predict the deployment of combat aircrafts and how the Liberlian Royal Army smashed several Armored Divisions to paste? The truth of the matter is that Liberl's combat aircrafts were a prime example of an unknown unknown. And these kinds of pesky unknowns are not subject to predictions by their very definition. The proper way to deal with them? Malleability in mind and action, improvisation and contingencies. Oh, and contingencies for the contingencies. During the invasion twelve years ago the Imperial Army lacked proper contingencies except throwing more troops at the problem. Why? The answer is arrogance.

My advice to you when next time someone utters Dreichels famous mandate: Take them by their word. Arise! Be ambitious and don't let yourself be cowed by the experience and superior wisdom of your supposed betters. Dreichels asked young people like you to become the foundation of the world, not the foundation to prop up your elders."

When Field Marshal Richthofen left the podium, the silence persisted. Rean had heard rumors about the man. His popularity with the common soldiers despite his status as a noble, the whispers about him being something of a maverick. Turned out the rumors didn't do him justice.

"That was quite a speech," Elliot murmured. "Every speech really. The expectations here at Thors are something else."

Rean nodded. "I hear you."

Shortly after the members of the Imperial General Staff Office left the Auditorium together with the dignitaries. Commoner and noble cadets alike gathered around the instructors who had been sitting in the first row during the ceremony.

"All riiight!", another instructor said from the direction of the podium. "Students in red uniforms, if I can have your attention, please?"

The one talking turned out to be another officer, though on closer look Rean wasn't sure anymore. The fuchsia haired woman was technically wearing the violet uniform of an Imperial Army officer. Yet it would be more accurate to say that she had draped the garment across her shoulders like a cape with the empty sleeves fluttering around. She wore a short yellow jacket beneath the uniform and a blue feminine dress with half a dozen belts keeping everything in place. As she walked towards them, her dress turned out to have a slit at the right side which exposed a well toned thigh and hinted at the other.

Rean gulped. Did she wore this kind of get-up while sitting in the first row? In front of Erebonia's top brass? He wasn't sure if he should admire her guts or condemn her sheer brazenness.

"Hello fresh cadets. Right now, you are probably confused. 'Where's my assignment?', you are asking." Everyone in red gave some sort of agreement or kept listening. "Well, your situation is slightly more complicated than the other cadets."

"We are part of some special program, right?", a green haired cadet with glasses said. Several others nodded, having reached the same easy conclusion.

"Worry not!" The strange instructor said, wagging her fingers. "Everything will be clear soon enough. I ask you to follow me to the barracks. You first need to change back to your regular uniforms. This ceremonial garb isn't fit for field situations."

"A field situation?", another cadet with glasses asked, her voice sounding unsure.

"Exactly." The fuchsia haired woman winked. "You are going to join me on an orienteering exercise."

* * *

Towa and Angelica were watching from above a hill as the prospective members of Class VII followed Instructor Sara into the old schoolhouse ruin.

"I guess the moment of truth has finally arrived," the petite brunette said.

"Do you want to take part in Crow's little betting pool, about how many of them decide to take the plunge?"

Towa smiled sweetly. "Why not. I'll wager three breakfasts at Kirsche's."

Angelica smirked. "That's rare, my dear, sweet Towa, for you to take part in Crow's antics. What's your bet?"

"Whatever you wagered on, Angie. I trust your luck."

"It warms my heart to hear you say this." She squinted her eyes, her gaze getting a predatory glint. "But really, the chosen ladies for Class VII are a true feast for the eyes. I can't wait to introduce myself."

Towa tilted her head. "We already know Fie, but you are also acquainted with Alisa, aren't you?"

Angelica puffed out her chest. "Acquaintance? What are you talking about, Towa? Alisa and I are bona fide childhood friends." She smirked. "Although, olala, she certainly filled out. I take my eyes off her for two years and here she is, with one hell of a dynamite body."

The brunette smiled wistfully. "It's ironic my tenure at Baldur's fell exactly into the time frame, when you were trying to get some breathing room from your family, Angie. We could have known each other far earlier."

The Rogner heir sighed. "You tell me. Seemed like I missed all the fun, though Weapons School wasn't so bad." She snaked an arm around her small friends waist, drawing her close and eliciting a faint 'eep' from her. "But now that we are talking about Baldurs, care to show me which one of these nice hunks was your ever reliable student council problem solver?"

Towa rolled her eyes. "I thought you only go for females."

"I can appreciate a nice piece of man-meat as well as any other woman. Now stop stalling."

The group of students plus one instructor were now all crowded around the front entrance of the old schoolhouse. Towa raised her finger hesitantly. "It's the black haired one. That's Rean."

As if on cue, the one being pointed out chose the moment to turn around. A mere second later, he zoomed in on the two second years, his body language turning from guarded to surprised. Towa chuckled and stretched her arm above her head to give him a friendly wave. The black haired youth waved back shortly after, a pleased smile on his face.

"Oookay, was that lover's telepathy?", Angelica teased.

Towa sighed. "Rean is a practitioner of eastern martial arts. His senses are extremely sharp. The moment I focused my intent on him, he was bound to notice."

"Eastern martial art, huh. And from this distance?" The Rogner heir whistled. "Impressive. Still, both of you seem awfully familiar with each other." She strengthened the grip around her friends waist. "You sure, you haven't forgotten to tell me something important?"

"Angie, please. We are just friends. Besides, he is already in a relationship."

The leather clad second year froze. "Really? Hmm, this Rean figure is becoming more formidable by the second. Perhaps he has the potential to be another apex predator like me, preying on the hearts of innocent maidens and ensnaring them in his lecherous grip."

"Stop projecting Angie. Rean isn't like that, though I hope him being in the same class as Alisa won't lead to problems."

This time, Angelica released her hold on the brunette, her expression calculated and for once serious. "Towa, are you telling me he is supposed to be Alisa's boyfriend?"

"Yes?"

"How recent is their relationship?"

"I think they became a couple the moment I graduated from Baldurs. Why?"

The Rogner heir hesitated for a moment, but finally worded her suspicion. "It's just, Alisa and I wrote to each other not long ago. We tried to catch up after being out of touch for the last two years and she told me in her letter how she dumped a guy. Someone she's been dating for about a year."

Towa's mouth was open, a small 'oh' escaping her lips. Then she slumped her shoulders. "This is going to be such a mess."

* * *

For the umpteenth time this day, Elliot Craig felt like he was completely over his head. Right now, he could be standing in the august halls of Heimdallr Academy of Music, taking his first steps in fulfilling his life long aspiration, the career path he had always focused on since he was old enough to read sheet music.

But life had a strange way of subverting one's expectations.

After the solstice concert at Valflame Palace, key instructors from the Academy of Music were falling head over heels to recruit him. Moreover, even his dad gave him his blessing, proud of his accomplishments as a musician as well as a military student of Odins.

_When it comes to professional musicians, there are two types: There's the technician who pours everything he has into mastering his skill with an instrument. He pulls of flawless sixteenth triplets or a vibrant glissando like it's the easiest thing in the world, treating music as an expression of his mastery of bodily control. This kind of musician is inherently selfish. His art stands aside from his audience, the listeners mere adoring spectators to his craft. Then there's the performer. The one who sees music as a vessel to convey and inspire emotions, a means of communication. For him, playing his instrument is a two-way street, the attentiveness of his audience a crucial part of the artistic process. So tell me, Elliot Craig, which type of musician are you?_

Even now, the Azure Diva's words were resounding inside his head, her speaking voice as intoxicating as her singing one. If he wanted to go the way of the technician, attending the Academy of Music would have been the correct decision. But his tenure at Odins showed him how much there was to know and learn about the world outside of music. He could hone his violin playing to a razor's edge, pulling of rhythmic stunts and harmonic feats no layman could conceive, but was that the true road of an artist? A person who devoted himself solely and utterly to music, to the exclusion of everything else, how could such a person comprehend the hearts of his fellow men and women?

Except for fellow musicians with the same level of obsession of course.

So here he was, rushing forward to attend the most elite institution in Erebonia. Part of it was curiosity and daring, the desire to test himself outside his comfort zone. He wanted to experience things he otherwise never would. Another part was his wish to continue trace his father's footsteps, although he was sure he wouldn't last longer than one year at Thors. But even one year was plenty, for it was only when Elliot became a military student that he truly connected with his dad. Sure, there was never any doubt they were family. Olaf Craig was a good husband and parent who knew to keep his military persona outside the threshold of their home. Yet it took Elliot until now to realize how his dad was for years the odd man out in the family. He was the only one who didn't play an instrument. As such he had always been a spectator in the Craig household to a certain extent.

How lonely his father must have felt, when mom died. And for so long, he recklessly pursued his music career without locking left or right, blind to the rest of the world and his loved ones. Well, no more.

Right now he was willing to keep his options open. As he followed the strange instructor towards a decrepit building, his nervousness continued to build up by the second. The woman remained tight lipped the whole way from the auditorium to the barracks, where they changed out of their ceremonial uniforms. She continued to deflect their questions when they left the barracks for the destination of some orienteering exercise. Along the way, Elliot made more small talk with Rean who helped him with the decorative saber as well as Gaius. Both of them seemed nice and easy-going, putting some of his worries to rest. Nevertheless, he could put one and one together as well as anybody else: They were all part of some elite program.

And listening to the other red shirts, it showed.

Elliot wasn't inclined to violence or the pursuit of martial skills. But when he became a military student, there was no avoiding it. This in turn pitted him with some classmates who received combat training from an early age. In the beginning it felt like a musical neophyte trying to keep up with a professional musician, except with him in the role of the beginner. It brought him no small amount of frustration until a certain upperclassmen told him to play by his strengths. It sounded like nice advice, but Elliot wasn't sure how he should implement it in the beginning. Music wasn't exactly something used in combat, or so he thought. But with some more nudging and tinkering, he indeed found his own niche: The offensive manipulation of sonic waves and analyzing the battle situation with his sharp hearing.

Trained fighters often possessed a sixth sense. They used it to either gauge the danger of an opponent or to guide them during the heat of battle. Elliot couldn't grasp something like this with his limited training, so he kept it simple. Instead of developing some esoteric sixth sense he focused his hearing to discern things other than music. It worked surprisingly well and he didn't even need to practice much.

Bit by bit, he listened to each of the cadet's breathing rhythm, which was a reliable way to estimate their level of training. What he got in return awed and frightened him. Among them, the lady with the glasses was pretty mundane, her stamina that of an untrained civilian. Elliot had to suppress a snicker, for since when did he start to separate people in civilians and combatants? The others were all better conditioned than him though . The blond lady as well as Machias Regnitz were still the least impressive. Their breathing was even, deep and as steady as a metronome. It hinted at good stamina, that their bodies were in excellent shape, but not much more. The blond youth, whose demeanor screamed noble as well as Gaius, were a step above. Their breathing matched their gait perfectly. The skilled classmates at Odins with a lifetime of combat training sounded like this. Then there was the tall blue haired woman and Elliot had to force himself to look away lest he stared. The other ladies were all very pretty in their own way, but there was something striking about her. But even as he averted his eyes, his ears perceived the unique rhythm of her inhaling and exhaling. It wasn't so much synchronized with her gait, but instead provided a melodic counterpoint to her walking motion. There was an ebb and flow to her body dynamic. Something he couldn't quite put a finger on. But even so, he marveled at how she could make an act as simple as breathing sound so beautiful.

Incidentally, the female instructor also displayed a unique rhythm, though compared to the beautiful, calming sound of the blue haired lady, the instructor's breathing was a suppressed rumble, like the preparatory notes before a crescendo... no more like a sforzando. Then there was Rean as well as the white haired girl. They were in a way the most impressive, because he couldn't perceive any sound, as if they weren't drawing air at all.

If he didn't know better, he would call them dead men walking. They still showed chest movement, so their lungs had to be working somehow. Still, Elliot didn't have the foggiest how both of them could render their breathing as silent as that. He would also bet his favorite violin that they could erase any breathing motion if the situation required it.

Dueling these two was probably an utter nightmare.

They finally entered the building, but Elliot didn't expect to find the interior decked out with machinery, cables and orbal terminals. People worked in front of monitors, their fingers flying over keyboards. There were also some engineers wandering about, who were busy maintaining terminal cables or running diagnostics on arcane machines. The instructor went straight through the hall, leading them towards a steel door. It opened itself automatically with both halves sliding into the wall. They entered another, smaller room which contained more of the same. The only marked difference was an Imperial Army Officer standing in the middle. Elliot froze in his steps. He knew the profile and when the man turned around he showed himself to be someone the young cadet knew very well.

"Christoph?" He blurted out. Then he caught himself. "S-sorry, I mean Major Neithardt, what are you doing here, Sir?"

Everybody in their procession focused their attention on him, making Elliot feel very self-conscious. "I see," the female instructor murmured, her voice easygoing. "You are Fiona's little brother, aren't you?"

This time, he actually doubled back. "Wait instructor, you know my sister?"

The question marks on the faces of the other cadets became even more pronounced.

Major Neidhardt cleared his throat, directing the attention back to him. "Cadets, my name is Christoph Neithardt. I'm a major of the 4th Armored Division of the Imperial Army. Nine years of service. I have a double specialization as a tank and communications officer. I'm pretty sure you all have a lot of questions and Elliot's, I mean Cadet Craig's interaction with me probably raised even more. Suffice to say, I'm a friend of his family. Further details will be shared at his discretion. I would like us all to focus on the purpose of being here instead."

The strange instructor shrugged, before walking leisurely towards the major, placing herself beside the man and opposite the cadets.

"So, I guess now is the moment of truth," she drawled, her demeanor still not military at all. "Name's Sara Valestein. I'm a provisional military officer with the rank of first lieutenant. I serve as a combat instructor and field consultant. Some of you might be aware, but here at Thors almost all courses are held by a duo of instructors. One of them is usually outside the military, like a researcher or specialist who brings cutting edge knowledge or skills on the table. Then there is an officer who isn't as specialized, because, well, he or she needs to do soldiering most of the time. Their role is to... what was the word, ah, integrate the knowledge of the specialist into military procedures and other boring stuff. So much about our roles as regular instructors." She paused and folded her arms, propping up her considerable bust in the process.

Elliot forced himself to look upwards, his throat becoming dry.

"Both the major and I also have an additional job which concerns the nine of you. I guess right now most of you are pretty confused, what with the red uniform and this gloomy high-tech building and all. Well, let me illuminate: You have been chosen for a very special program this year. It's called Class VII and it's totally different from the other classes, because here we have no distinction between commoners and nobles."

There were several moments of silence. Elliot wasn't quite sure what to think and the others around him looked equally bewildered. To his surprise, the one trivia taking up his attention was the woman being a provisional officer as well as her rank. First lieutenant put her barely above the cadets during a field situation.

"This must be some kind of joke!"

The one who spoke was Machias Regnitz. Elliot didn't have much interaction with his fellow graduate during his time at Odins, but the son of Heimdallr's governor was pretty famous. He was the consistent top scorer at the academy and there was the rumor he used every opportunity available to show up nobles in all kinds of competitive settings.

"And why is it the first time I have heard of it?", the green haired youth continued his tirade, sounding indignant.

"Well, uh...err who are you again?", the female instructor asked.

Major Neithardt palmed his face. When he removed his hand, his expression had the kind of resignation one wore when watching a derailing train on high speed.

"Machias Regnitz, and with all due respect, instructor, it's ludicrous to intermix commoners and nobles like this."

This time, the fuchsia haired woman bristled. "Ohhh, 'with all due respect', is it? I've been teaching here for a year now and when mouthy cadets start their complaints with this phrase, it usually means everything but respect. More like a polite way to say I can stick it up my ass. Is that what you are telling me?"

Machias stepped back, apparently not ready for the sudden aggression or profanity. The blond haired youth chose this exact moment to scoff. Immediately, the Odins graduate turned his ire on his fellow cadet. He had probably noticed the blond's noble lineage, too. "And what's your problem, your lordship?"

"Oh, nothing much," he spoke, his voice oozing bored nonchalance. The blond noble didn't even deign to turn his body to face the other cadet. "I just find the irony of your behavior rather... humorous."

Before the headstrong youth could retaliate, Major Neithardt's voice thundered across the room. "Enough!"

He folded his arms, his expression stormy. "Cadet Regnitz, Cadet Albarea." Elliot did a double take and a hush went through their group. "From this moment on, both of you are proud members of Thors Officer school. This place doesn't tolerate the kind of leniency the military academies allow. This is not a place where more than half of the graduates become part of the civilian workforce. Here, I expect military discipline, professionalism, camaraderie and dignity fit for an officer of the Erebonian Empire. Neither of you have displayed any of these qualities right now, especially you Regnitz. If you don't keep your act together, I swear by the goddess I will make you, your political connections be damned. Am I understood?"

"Y-yes," both of them stuttered.

"I don't hear you, cadets!"A bark. "Am I understood?", he roared.

"Yes, Sir!" This time both of them saluted.

Major Neithardt nodded, seemingly satisfied.

"Well, well, look at you, major, keeping the young hotheads in line." The female instructor seemed a little miffed. "Though didn't we agree the military discipline should be kept to a minimum?"

The major pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you would properly do your job, First Lieutenant Valestein," the woman bristled again, "I wouldn't need to resort to shouting."

The fuchsia haired woman glared at the man beside her, before she turned her gaze to the two cadets the major just disciplined, a playful smirk on her lips. "The shouting might just be what the doctor ordered. And you major, are the perfect guy for the job. After all, I'm not a big burly man who can easily intimidate fresh cadets, especially the male ones." Then she winked, her voice half lascivious, half menacing. "Just you wait, boys. A few combat courses under my tender mercies will make even the most pig headed cadet take me seriously."

Major Neithardt sighed. "Don't rough up the new cadets more than necessary. Colonel Beatrix and her infirmary is already tasked beyond capacity."

"Boo, spoilsport. Bringing the colonel into the discussion isn't fair."

"This is exactly why I'm doing it."

Elliot looked at the two adults, his head spinning. Despite both instructors being as different as night and day there was a strange rapport between the duo. "Aidios, they are joking right?" He heard both Regnitz and the Albarea heir murmur in a funny display of synchronization. And wasn't this a bombshell? A member of the second highest noble house in the whole of Erebonia was standing mere arge beside him. This was a far cry from the kind of nobility he was used to at Odins.

"I get the impression they aren't joking," the black haired youth, Rean, replied.

Elliot didn't know what came over him, but he nodded in agreement. "I know the major. He is a great guy, but he doesn't have a single funny bone in his body."

Machias Regnitz audibly gulped, while the others looked at him again.

The female instructor clapped her hands, capturing their attention. "Now to get back on track, fresh cadets, I would like to point out that this special class is voluntary. The project is pretty expensive and all, so we need people who are a hundred percent committed. If some of you," and here she looked straight at Regnitz, "dislike the whole shebang, you are free to quit right here right now. You will be sorted to the class you were originally meant to then. No detriments. We are still at the very beginning of the school year, so a sudden change in classes won't affect your studies. Easy, right?"

Major Neithardt held up a hand. "I would like to inquire something beforehand, Cadet Regnitz, although my questions may become slightly personal. You are free to decline answering in that case. Is that acceptable?"

"Eh, yes of course, Sir."

The officer nodded. "Cadet Regnitz, do you oppose the policies your father pursues?"

"What?" The youth blanched. "Of course not, Sir. I'm fully behind what my father is trying to accomplish as a politician."

The major quirked an eyebrow. "And what is the ultimate political goal your father tries to reach?"

"Abolishing this detestable social relic called the nobility of course." His answer was as quick as the shot of a pistol.

"Right. Now let us imagine for a moment an Erebonian society without the nobility. What would be the characteristics of such? How would one's place in life be determined?"

"Naturally through actual accomplishments and aptitude instead of dirty nepotism."

"Basically a meritocratic order with no distinction between the social classes or one's background."

"Exact..."

Elliot had to suppress a chuckle. Now he finally understood what the Albarea heir meant with 'ironic' and judging by Machias' expression, he had also caught on. His mouth was gaping and closing without him uttering a single coherent word. The young musician felt a little pity for his fellow Odins graduate.

"You realize the contradiction now," the major remarked, his voice completely neutral. He spoke his words as a statement, as fact.

Machias straightened himself. Then he bowed stiffly. "I apologize instructors. My prior outburst was not only in poor taste, but also in poor judgment. Consider myself... intrigued by Class VII as a concept."

"Interesting," the female instructor commented. "This was pretty smooth, major. I didn't think a military man like yourself had it in you."

Major Neithardt sighed again. "Unlike what your prejudices tell you, Valestein, officers don't pull rank all the time when communicating with their subordinates. We do explain the rationale for our actions and orders when the situation permits it." He turned back to the cadets. "My colleague spoke about full commitment for this special project, but am I correct to assume almost none of you are quite willing to devote yourself to this social experiment?"

Hesitant nods were the answer.

"Is there anyone present who definitely can't imagine him or herself to be part of Class VII?"

Elliot stilled. Should he speak up? The situation was completely over his head and it was clear the people gathered here were the elite of the elites despite the claim that social background didn't matter in this class. He wondered for a moment whether he was chosen because of his father's influence. It would make this whole concept of Class VII look hypocritical if it were the case. No. There was no way his father would stoop so low to pull strings to place him here. He was as straightforward as an arrow and tough love was his second name. They once talked about the responsibilities of an officer and dad said there was nothing as bad as a person holding a military rank beyond his capabilities. If his father had any say in creating this project he would have made doubly sure he was fitting for the role.

Elliot shook his head like the others.

"In this case," the female instructor chimed in, demeanor all perky, "we have prepared just the thing to give you a taste of what Class VII is all about. The orienteering exercise!"

"To elaborate," the major seamlessly continued, "we have prepared an obstacle course you have to overcome as a team. It will involve combat, applied knowledge and tactical planning. Before we proceed, all of you are required to sign a non-disclosure contract, for you will come into touch with classified military technology and research. This is standard procedure for every cadet here at Thors, though this kind of paperwork is usually done a few days after class induction. Are you ready?"

The bespectacled lady raised her hand. It was shaking. "Instructor Neithardt, you mentioned combat. If I may ask, what exactly are we going to fight?"

"Monsters of course," the female instructor answered. She sounded like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Elliot gulped. Way to kill his resolve.

"Interesting," Gaius mused. "I didn't expect monsters in the middle of what constitutes as a fortified military base. Are they kept here for training purposes?"

"Weeell," the fuchsia haired woman drawled, "not exactly. We call this place the old school house."

"This is an Ancient Ruin, isn't it?" Rean spoke up. He stroked his chin. "Or to be more exact, the building here was constructed over an Ancient Ruin. And it potentially contains Lost Technology or perhaps even an Artifact."

"What?" The blond haired lady with twin tails cried out. "Are you serious, Rean?"

So they knew each other? Elliot watched the two as Rean affirmed his statement without looking in her direction. The lady also became flustered after her outburst and soon enough mimicked the black haired youth, both clearly uncomfortable with each others presence.

"Oh?" The strange instructor looked smug, while Major Neithardt made a face as if he... well, had an ulcer. "How did you reach this kind of conclusion, Mr Rean... Schwarzer, right?"

If the black haired youth was surprised that the woman somehow remembered his name, but didn't bother to learn about the identity of the son of Heimdallr's governor, he didn't show it. "Judging from your reactions, instructors, I've guessed correctly."

"Cadet Schwarzer, I'm also very interested to hear about the way you've reached this kind of guess."

The whole group was staring at him, so the major was voicing everybody's curiosity.

Rean stroked his chin again. "Several points, which doesn't add up if one takes things at face value. First this building. If this is the former Thors schoolhouse, it's safe to assume the place was built when Dreichsels the Lionheart himself was alive. The style and decor here is early Renaissance style, so the epoch fits. Looking at the decrepit condition, it has been abandoned for a while and the Thors administration didn't saw it fit to keep it in good shape. It may have value as a historical landmark, but it was otherwise considered a place without worth until something... changed." He began to pace. "I mean, I'm not that good with technology, but I've counted four active orbal computers until now. Mere restoration or reconstruction work doesn't require this kind of data processing power. Thus, what has lured all these technical specialists here isn't the building we see right now, but something else. Something that is concealed."

He turned towards the major. "Your wording, Instructor Neithardt, was also noteworthy: When you mentioned the non-disclosure contract, you said classified military technology and research. The first part is understandable, the second part is not. Thors doesn't have the facilities to conduct research, officially at least. Much less research of a caliber which would make secrecy a necessity. There's also the way the perimeter around the building is secured. No visible guards, but I counted two five man patrols hidden in the woods as well as four snipers. This place is protected, but you don't want to make it obvious to outside observers." He folded his arms. "At this point there aren't many circumstances that justifies this kind of expenditure. If we add monsters to the equation, which aren't deliberately kept according to instructor Valestein and an Ancient Ruin with Lost Technology becomes a probable hypothesis. Especially if the Erebonian military doesn't plan to share what's found here with the Septian Church."

Elliot gaped. How did he figure out everything so quickly? The Albarea heir chuckled, his bored visage gone, replaced by an intrigued expression. The other cadets were as gob smacked as him, except for Gaius and Alisa who almost looked like they expected this kind of crazy deduction. Oh, and the white haired girl was as expressionless as ever.

"Nothing gets by you, doesn't it?", the female instructor drawled.

The Imperial Officer pinched the bridge of his nose. "He may be sharper than Armbrust, which is a scary thought."

"He missed two snipers," the white haired girl deadpanned.

Rean faced her. "Really?" He sounded interested. "I noticed a pair at four o'clock and another pair at eight o'clock, while we walked towards this building's entrance.

"Yeah." She nodded. "Both pairs are a sniper plus spotter. There is also one at ten o'clock and one at two o'clock, 400 arge distance. Those two work solo."

This time, the major actually groaned. "It seems I need to have a serious word with the protective duty here. They need more training if they are this easily picked up by first year cadets."

"Wow." The black haired youth regarded the smallest member among the cadets with admiration. "Seems like I still have ways to go. You are amazing."

She shrugged. "You aren't bad yourself."

Major Neithardt cleared his throat again. "Now that Cadet Schwarzer has divulged classified military information, none of you will leave this building until all your signatures are where they belong - at the bottom of a non-disclosure contract. Follow me cadets." The Imperial Officer turned smartly on his heels and lead them deeper into the building.

"And while we are at it," the fuchsia haired woman added, walking side by side with the major, "we should also make a little round of introductions. Break the ice a little."

The cadets followed after the instructors, some of them hesitant, some relaxed, some determined.

* * *

**Elemental Septium: **I'm displaying the names of all elemental Septium here. I already put the list at the beginning of the first chapter, but I consider the terms pretty crucial, so here they are again.

Earth - Amberl

Water - Sapphirl

Air - Esmelas

Fire - Carnelia

Time - Nohval

Mirage - Argem

Space - Goldia

**About the Eight Leaves One Blade School: **Rean being taught the Seventh Form is canon and detailed in the first Sen no Kiseki drama CD with Class VII relaxing in Ymir before their school concert in ToCS1. If any of you ever wondered how Rean suddenly jumped from Beginner level in the first game to Intermediate in the second, the Drama CD gives you the answer, though the details are sparse and there is no 'on-screen' appearance from Rean's master.

To make Yun Ka-Fai's teachings seem more authentic, I'm also drawing inspiration from a historical source, namely the Go Rin No Sho, the Book of Five Rings, a work about kenjutsu and the 'Way of Strategy' written by Miyamoto Musashi. Personally, I think the Eight Leaves already draws some inspiration from Musashi in canon. For one, the man was called kensai during his lifetime which literally translates to 'Sword Saint'. Pretty similar to the title of Divine Blade, I think. Another parallel is Void. The Go Rin No Sho is divided into five books named after the five elements in Japanese mysticism, namely earth (translated as ground), water, fire, air (translated as wind) and finally void. The concept behind Musashi's final book also seems similar to Ka-Fai's description of the Seventh Form according to my limited knowledge.

**Tai sabaki**: The term is Japanese and refers to a three step maneuver that once mastered is a means to freely adjust your body axis, while at same time shifting your line of movement. The maximum degree to perform the maneuver which makes sense is a half turn (180 degrees). Due to its simplicity and universal applicability, it's pretty wide spread throughout a lot of different systems in Japanese budo, like aikido, karate or kendo. The maneuver also exists in Chinese martial arts under a different name and I wouldn't be surprised if similar or even the same idea exists in all kinds of martial arts systems throughout the world. It's pretty simple to perform, even for a beginner, but getting a feel for the timing and angle as well as the correct accompanying attack in the heat of action is probably what separates a master from a novice.

**Tiancai: **A Chinese term referring to a very talented person, bordering on genius. Yun Ka-Fai isn't a Japanese name, so I see no reason why I shouldn't freely mix Japanese and Chinese concepts when making up stuff for Kiseki 'Eastern culture'.

**Gongfu**: The Chinese Hanyu-Pinyin-Romanization of Kungfu, which originally doesn't refer to martial-arts in particular (although Western popular culture and misconception distorted the meaning), but simply means effort or any skill acquired through a big investment of time and effort. Yun Ka-Fai's usage of the term refers to its original meaning. When talking about an umbrella term for martial-arts a Chinese native speaker uses Wushu.

The only kind of Chinese Romanization I will use in my story is the aforementioned Hanyu-Pinyin method which has been the internationally approved standard since the 1980s. I will only deviate in case Kiseki canon provides a different kind of Romanization - case in point: Yun Ka-Fai.

**About military aphorisms: '**War is the continuation of politics by other means' is a quote ascribed to Carl von Clausewitz, Prussia military philosopher whose treatise _On War _is regarded today on about the same level as Sun-Tzu's _Art of War. _The man's middle names are Phillipp Gottfried btw.

'No plan of operations extends with certainty beyond the first encounter with the enemy's main strength' is part of the main thesis on military strategy formulated by Helmuth Karl Bernhard Graf von Moltke. A much more popular and shortened version of the saying is known as 'No plan survives contact with the enemy." The guy was a contemporary of Otto von Bismark, a Prussian Field Marshal and the first person to create a General Staff Office in any kind of real world military ever.

Seriously, Erebonia being a fantasy counterpart culture of Prussia is absolutely awesome. Prussian military history is a goldmine of ideas and exceptional figures once you start digging.

**Sixteenth triplet: **For those of you who have never dealt with sheet music, a sixteenth note refers to the sixteenth part of a rhythmic bar (or measure), which is basically a full rhythmic unit. The length of this rhythmic unit is relative, meaning that each piece of sheet music needs to define the length or tempo of a single bar at the beginning. A triplet is a special rhythmic notation which is taken as 'play three notes in the time it takes to play two'. To use Vita's example of sixteenth triplet means playing three notes with equal rhythmic value in the time it takes to play two sixteenth notes. To give you a measure of how difficult it can be, let us assume that a bar contains four beats, which is pretty standard in musical notation. Let us also define, that one beat is exactly one second long, a tempo which is neither slow nor fast. A sixteenth note in this example is therefore only one-fourth of a second long. A sixteenth triplet in turn are three tones that are each one-sixth of a second. Depending on the exact composition of the tones, this can already be technically challenging. To drive the musician even further to despair, simply intermix the sixteenth triplets with regular one-sixteenth notes... there is a reason Elliot practices like a fanatic in canon.

**Metronome**: A mechanical or electric tool which gives off equally timed beats as acoustic signals. The tempo of the beats is adjustable beforehand, measured in beats per minute. The metronome is a wide spread training tool for advanced musicians to practice their sense of rhythm. It's of course also possible to force a beginner to use a metronome, but music teachers usually avoid doing so, because most of the time it drains away all the fun for someone who hasn't yet grasped the fundamentals of his instrument.

**Glissando:** A term from classical music. Refers to a technique of tone sliding between notes. To explain it in physical terms, a tone given off by an instrument can be described as a discrete frequency. 440 Hertz for example, is the 5th A on a piano keyboard, a popular tone which is frequently used by orchestras or groups of musicians to tune or 'calibrate' their instruments. Now a glissando means that when a musician slides from tone A, which is 440 Hertz, to let's say tone E which is about 660 Hertz, he manages to sound off more frequencies in-between these two pitches than the instrument is conventionally designed for. To elaborate, most modern classical instruments (yeah, I know that sounds kind of contradictory), can play pitches along a so-called chromatic scale, meaning the smallest tonal difference which can be conventionally played are half-tone units. During a glissando sliding, the instrument also gives off multiple frequencies that lie _between_ these half-tone units. The reason I'm harping on the details is because it's also possible to slide along the discrete half-tones or full tone units without deviations in defined tonal frequencies. This technique is called legato which is easier to perform in most cases. The glissando is a technique most commonly associated with bowed string instruments like the violin.

**Crescendo and Sforzando**: Terms in classical music. Crescendo is a continuous increase in volume. Sforzando is a sudden strong emphasis on a single note, usually expressed by an instantaneous increase in volume. Yeah, Elliot is able to pick up on Sara's lightning abilities simply by listening to her breathing. Unfortunately, he isn't experienced enough yet to comprehend what he's hearing.


	5. Dungeon Crawling

****Thors Officer School, ToCS1 Outside the Fairy Tale****

****A/N: The only Kiseki-canon unit for weight is torim, which is one metric ton, so I needed to invent another name for a metric kilogram. I call it nalim. If anybody can think of a better name, feel free to post suggestions. And if there actually is a canon unit for a metric kilogram, give me a holler and I'll correct it. This is Kiseki-lore with thousands of little lore bits hidden in NPC dialogue after all. ****

****Edit: Since Cold Steel 3, there's the canon unit curim for one metric kilogram, so nalim will be corrected. I still need a metric unit for gram though, so nalim will be that until canon contradicts me again. ****

****This chapter finally allows me to put to paper one of my favorite things in written fiction: Physical violence. And whose perspective is more fitting than Class VII's resident female sword nut? I also wrote a somewhat long note at the end of the chapter about German Historical Fencing. If anybody is curious why I reduced Laura's blade size from Cloud Strife Buster Sword proportions to something resembling a realistic blade, feel free to read my reasoning at the bottom.  
****

**Apex85: Yeah, Rean's master will dual wield - if he feels like it. I will in fact dedicate a whole Form to dual wielding because I love creating head canon. **

**rikotch: Thanks for your praise. I don't know whether I'll be able to give you nice Sara-Neithardt banter as often as you would like, but I put both together for a reason, or several ;)**

**Blue Bragon: Ah, Giliath Osborne. He's indeed one interesting villain. I totally agree with your opinion that the man should have stayed as the kind of antagonist who couldn't be beaten with a sword or gun. I feel the Trails world is consistent and rich enough to give such an enemy ample room to be challenging.  
**

**My initial draft of Elliot was that his attendance at Thors was just more of the same misery like canon, only far more bitter, because Papa Craig forced his son into a military institution twice. And both times against his will. It ended up too angsty for my taste, because this is still Kiseki and Olaf is such a silly dad. I'm glad you like my revised version. **

* * *

**Chapter 5 – Dungeon Crawling**

Blue dyed leather gloves, metallic vambraces, greaves as well as a long-coat bearing the colors of her family crest. The attire almost reached her knees with sewn-in steel plates at the bottom part to reinforce it. The coat basically served as an armored battle skirt, though she opted not to button it up, partially revealing the distinctive red jacket. She examined the armor parts one last time, making sure everything was properly attached, her mood rising along her battle readiness. She was glad they had to change out of the restrictive, ceremonial uniform dress. It was aesthetically pleasing she guessed, despite the severe cut, but she usually didn't wear something this feminine. For an instant, she grimaced, her mind wandering to the few occasions when she couldn't avoid donning the kind of festive dress coveted by proper daughters of high breeding: A wide billowing skirt made of artistically sewn brocade, which was overlain on a wooden scaffold, a punishingly tight bodice with lavish embroidery, only made wearable by the crushing corset underneath; at least the cursed attire was long sleeved, hiding her arms and overly broad shoulders. If she was forced into this kind of fashionable death trap - damn her father's honeyed tongue - she would at least make it look good.

Sometimes she wondered about other young noblewoman her own age. Did they really like clothing this restrictive? Something that amounted to a wearable cage, molding body and posture to such a degree it could as well be called crippling? She couldn't help but wonder whether this part of traditional culture wasn't reflective of the insular mindset many noble families still clung to when it came to the role of females: The demure, obedient wife, following the patriarch's words and whimsies without question, her most important role in life being the bearer of children, preferably male.

Didn't Saint Sandlot conclusively show over 250 years ago how woman could be so much more, that they could become every man's equal if society just gave them the chance? Good thing her father couldn't care less about convention and allowed her to pursue her passions, nurturing her in accordance to her suitability and interests.

She pulled out the half-sheath Klaus gave her for her 18th birthday, though it would be more appropriate to call it a third-sheath. She fixed it on her torso, one strap going diagonally across her upper body, the other strap firmed horizontally. She fiddled with the buckles, for she wasn't used to the equipment yet. The partial sheath was quite an ingenious piece of engineering: It was inlaid with ferromagnetic plating, with the outer side collapsible. The hinge mechanism was connected to the belt buckle at her front, allowing her to fold the sheath 'open' like the pages of a book - all with a single press of the button.

She knelt down and opened her sword case, the pronounced smell of teak wood tickling her nostrils. The clasp made of brass opened without trouble, revealing the blade entrusted to her as a swordswoman of the Arseid School who reached the intermediate level. She grabbed the weapon single handed, a bolt of energy coursing through her arm, her whole body tingling with anticipation. How did the female instructor call their next task? An orienteering exercise? Strange wording aside, there was apparently monster slaying involved - a perfect opportunity to break in the new blade.

The weapon was a Zweihaender, custom fitted. 1,73 arge from pommel to tip, weight 3,87 curim, blade width at the rain guard: 6,2 rege. The lenticular cross-section contained a double fuller, the cavities filled with Sapphirl threaded cobalt, welded against the steel. The cross guard was straight, also forged from solid steel with an active Amberl gem in the middle, while the grip was wrapped in cured Sharkodil skin. The round pommel at the end served as a counter-weight, made of a modern high density iridium-iron alloy.

Laura put her other hand on the handle, twirling the sword once, listening to the sound of the weapon cutting air, marveling at the exquisite balance. She smiled contently. Using high density metal on the pommel to compensate for a heavy blade section was an old trick, though prior to the Orbal Revolution, the most commonly used material for this purpose were lead alloys, which carried the ugly side effect of metal poisoning. Luckily, she didn't need to worry about this particular problem.

She pressed the button for the mechanism to flip open her sheath. Her blade described a lazy arc, coming to rest at her back, the weapon latching to the magnetic plating. She bend her right arm further, pressing down the opened sheath, sandwiching the blade in-between. Laura nodded to herself. Perfect.

The Arseid swordswoman breathed in deeply, calming herself. There was still one last piece of equipment she needed to deal with. She glanced down at the combat orbment which was supposedly a core aspect of the experimental class she was assigned to. The All Round Communication & Utility System, instructor Sara Valestein called it, a fifth generation combat orbment despite fourth generation still considered bleeding edge in official cycles. It was another worrying indication how the technological arms race was going out of control. Well, this way she was provided a perfectly logical explanation as to why major Neidhardt was so insistent on the non-disclosure contracts. That and the Ancient Ruin of course. Rean Schwarzer already pointed out this excavation wasn't strictly legal. She didn't know much about international politics, but it was clear the Church would look unfavorably on the military's action if they ever found out, though as a prospective member of said military there wasn't much she could do here.

She opened the panel of the ARCUS, coming face to face with the orbment setup. It was mostly empty except for the piece of burning fire in the middle. She felt her gaze inextricably drawn to the red Master Quartz, something she had never used until now, for the military academies only equipped their students with cheap second generation orbments which were still more than sufficient to turn an average fighter into a formidable foe. Laura started her combat breathing rhythm, picturing the currents and the rapids of water, the gentle waves lapping at the shore, the beauty of reflected sun light on Lake Ebel. Her inner energy coursed through her, making it easy to establish the spiritual link towards the Quartz. The connection snapped shut immediately and the familiar sensation of almost-knowing welled up inside her mind. She smiled. BRAVE. The fiery piece of crimson power embodied a pretty straightforward concept. She snapped the panel shut again, satisfied with the persisting spiritual connection. The rest would sort itself out. The knowledge of the Ancients encapsulated in the Quartz and brought forth through the orbments were instinctual, subliminal, lurking in the vast sea of the unconscious until they were needed. As a follower of the sword, she was well aware there was no use to overthink the issue.

She put the ARCUS into her orbment pouch and turned around. Her fellow cadets were all in various states of preparation, but it was just in her nature to focus on the sword fighters first. Jusis Albarea was a familiar sight, an acquaintance from Lokis who like her had been incessantly haunted by the academy's fencing club. Both of them turned down the club captain's invitation time after time until it became a little bit of a personal joke between them. Sadly, their relationship never went beyond friendly acquaintance, though she was pleasantly surprised to find out the young man strictly adhered to noblesse oblige underneath his stiff propriety. Shortly before graduation, she even convinced him to a friendly bout away from prying eyes, both of them aware the rumor-mill would have exploded if people saw them like that, making untoward assumptions to fuel their hunger for gossip.

The fight was telling to say the least. She was of course not so blasé to confront him about the findings she gathered through the clashing of their blades. They simply weren't close enough, so it would have been an invasion of his personal space, especially because said space was the sanctity of his mind. Now though, when fate had decreed to throw them in the same group, omitting the issue of his court fencing and the emotional turmoil it implied didn't feel palatable anymore.

She was going to keep an eye on him. They may not be friends, but Jusis was far from the kind of person she disliked. He was also a known quantity, a piece of comfortable familiarity in this highly irregular situation she found herself in.

Her gaze went to the other swordsman of this so called Class VII and she felt her eyes narrowing, her breath quickening. The sword he carried was a thing of sheer, utter beauty: The slight curvature, the lacquered sheath, the cross-binding of the grip, the fin-shaped protrusion at the guard as well as the red tassel fastened at the bottom of the handle. It felt like there was a wholly different kind of cultural sensibility guiding the resulting aesthetic, but she could certainly appreciate it.

She caught herself almost licking her lips, the anticipation of watching the eastern tachi in action warring with her curiosity of whether the black haired young man was a follower of _that_ particular style. Laura thought it probable. She was knowledgeable enough about eastern culture to understand their martial arts schools - though sect was the more appropriate term - were highly insular and horded their techniques jealously. Even for a native, gaining entry into those circles was fraught with difficulties and came with lifelong obligations and oaths. An Erebonian learning from them was unthinkable. That only left the legendary Hermit, the man who went against eastern orthodoxy in combining the accumulated secrets of no less than eight martial-arts sects, followed by the temerity of teaching the resulting system to Westerners. The fact he survived the backlash of his actions was proof enough of the man's resourcefulness and strength, but according to father, the Sword Hermit treated the whole affair as something of a joke.

There was of course the possibility the sword was just an affectation, a son of aristocracy showing off his wealth by brandishing an exotic weapon he knew nothing about, treating the sword as a mere prop to impress his fellows. No, it didn't fit. Rean Schwarzer claimed to be adopted, which told her volumes about what kind of man baron Schwarzer was. Her fellow cadet was also willing to carry the weapon into a den of monsters and the way he was handling the blade - the smoothness of the sheathing motion, the easy way the weight of the weapon rested on his hips.

She smiled. There was probably no reason to worry.

Laura went to the center of the room to join the cluster of cadets who were already finished with their preparations. There was no instructor in sight - intentional surely - and though they hadn't entered the obstacle course yet, she was sure the evaluation for each and every one of them had already started. The success or failure of their group cooperation was certainly a crucial part for Thors to judge their worthiness. She wondered a moment if the staff had monitoring devices placed here; she heard from father how modern fortresses utilized them, but a moment later she thought it irrelevant. Monitoring devices or not, it was common practice in Officer Schools to have cadets write assessments among themselves. They were going to be each others most intimate and perhaps harshest critics.

"If I may be so forward, I think it prudent for all of us to decide on how we proceed with this orientation", Laura said, catching the attention of all cadets present. "I admit I'm not exactly familiar with Ancient Ruins and what to expect inside them, but by pooling our expertise we are sure to reach a satisfactory solution." She gave Rean an obvious look.

The black-haired youth scratched his head. "This is my first Ancient Ruin too, you know?", but when he saw Alisa's narrowed eyes, he hastily added:"I do have second-hand knowledge about what to keep in mind during an exploration."

Jusis quirked an eyebrow. "Second-hand knowledge?"

"Yeah, one of my electives at Baldurs was archeology."

The Albarea heir folded his arms. "What a peculiar choice for someone aiming to become a military officer."

The adopted noble smiled sheepishly. "I was always interested in history. I thought it was a nice addition."

"So what is there to take heed of?", Laura interjected to steer the conversation back on track.

He took out some colored chalk as answer. "We will use these to mark our way through the place. Depending on the size of the ruin as well as its former function, it can end up being a literal maze. Sometimes there are floor plans or directions, though they are usually hidden inside storage mediums in digital form. More often than not, explorers don't have the necessary tools to access the information and even if we find a floor map in analog form, carved or painted on the walls, we probably won't be able to make much sense out of it... except if someone present happens to read an Ancient language or two? Middle Zemurian Futark is pretty common or perhaps Lower Erebosian Cuneiform?"

Silence was his only answer.

The black haired swordsman nodded. "Okay. That's navigation covered. The second barrier are autonomous security measures." He stroked his chin. "Simply consider them traps. It can be something as mundane as a self-fortifying door, but we can also end up in a sealed room flooded by toxic gas or alert mechanical monstrosities. They are called archaisms in archaeologic circles and this segues right into the third barrier: Monsters. As we all know, refined Septium attracts monsters and Ancient technology required ridiculous amounts to function. As such, the older the ruin the longer it served as a feeding ground. This is usually a good thing, because the monsters basically destroy the energy source on which the security measures depend. On the other hand, Septium found in Ancient Ruins is often of particularly high purity which exacerbates the mutations in monsters."

"Are you serious?" Machias Regnitz stammered. Laura saw how the bespectacled girl, Emma was her name, became as pale as a sheet. Even the Reinford Heiress and general Craig's son looked clearly uncomfortable.

Rean raised his hands in an appeasing gesture. "Just to be clear, what I described is the worst case scenario. There's every possibility the instructors have already defused the biggest dangers."

Laura hummed lightly. "But we don't know this for sure, do we? I dare say this is part of the challenge."

Jusis scoffed. "If I were to gauge that...flippant instructor, I can very much picture her trying to make our life difficult."

"You bet", the silver haired girl chimed in for the first time. Laura narrowed her eyes. Out of all the cadets, she was the sole person who put her on edge, though she couldn't quite grasp the reason. "I can scout", she added in a deadpan voice.

"Absolutely not!", Machias Regnitz burst out. "This is far too dangerous. We should stick together."

"And getting caught up in a trap all at once." She retorted dryly. She looked at their other bespectacled member with her trademark apathetic expression, but she still somehow conveyed the impression as if she was dealing with a particularly dim-witted child.

"You did hear all the dangers Rean just listed?", Laura interjected.

The silver haired girl rolled her eyes. "If that's all, I'm going."

"Wait!", Rean called out. The small girl turned around. "Yeah?"

He threw two pieces of chalk at her. She caught them without trouble.

"Use a green circle as a sign for whichever direction you are going at an intersection. If it turns out to be a dead-end, paint a red cross on top once you return to the intersection. If you encounter a trap and disarm it, use a green exclamation mark. If it's still active, a red exclamation mark."

"Sounds reasonable."

"And if you get into trouble, don't hesitate to alert us over the ARCUS", the black-haired swordsman added. "They have a call-to-call function according to instructor Valestein."

She nodded curtly. "I know. My old orbment had one, too." She showed a victory sign. "See you and don't lag behind too much."

Her body was illuminated by a rainbow shimmer that turned her entire outline transparent. Another shimmer went across her body leaving nothing in its wake.

"Did she just turn invisible?", Alisa said nonplussed.

"What did just happen?", Machias murmured.

Jusis folded his arms. "I think there's a Quartz called 'Cloak' which allows the user to completely blend in with the surrounding. It's rare and prohibitively expensive to synthesize."

Alisa shook her head. "But this doesn't make any sense. We were only given cheap and basic Quartz for our ARCUS units. How did she just whip out something like this?"

Laura shrugged. "Perhaps it's a function of her Master Quartz. If I were to hazard a guess, we all have different ones tailored to our individual combat leanings."

"Well, perhaps this is the reason she volunteered to scout", Rean added. "If the instructors deemed it appropriate to give her such a powerful tool, the only thing we can do is trust her to do her job." He turned towards all of them and balled a single fist. "I think we should concentrate on what the rest of _us_ can do. Is there anyone who took an elective in squad tactics?"

Laura raised her hand with a bemused expression.

He chuckled and bowed slightly. "In that case, Lady Arseid, I leave the floor to you."

She quirked an eyebrow. Polite, handsome, smart and probably an accomplished swordsman? He was certainly piquing her interest. "Thank you for the courtesy, though you can call me Laura like everybody else." She smiled around. "We are going to be equals in this class. Now, about how we should organize our combat formation...

* * *

The actual ruins didn't quite fulfill Laura's expectations. She was not the most bookish type. Beside the required coursework she sometimes indulged in light reading, but even then it was mostly what could only be charitably called action-thriller novels. While she didn't mind the occasional dash of a romantic sub-plot, the substantial part of the story should be filled with adventure, intrigue, and fighting.

_Carnelia_ came to mind as one of her favorite series, but whatever the Story; Ancient Ruins, Lost Technology or Artifacts were often utilized as set-pieces, the conflict around them exploited to drive the plot forward. As a result, she always carried the impression that a facility of the Ancients would look like the interiors of modern buildings, only even more modern. She remembered a word the Imperial Chronicle used to describe Crossbell: Futuristic.

The site beneath Thors' old schoolhouse looked nothing like her imagination. A stark reminder how fiction often came short of reality.

The walls of the place was made of finely chiseled stone - smooth, polished, in pristine condition. There was a weight of age and mystique about the place that was palpable, despite the lack of decay, as if everything had been frozen in time.

Their group moved in a classic spear-formation. Rean, Gaius and her made up the tip as the dedicated melee fighters. Alisa and Machias as the ranged attackers were the shaft. Emma and Elliot made up the tail end with Jusis as the rearguard. As Rean suspected, the place turned out to be a maze, but monster encounters were few until now. The only kind of creature barring their way looked like an oversized golden beetle, their carapace thick enough to withstand bladed weapons and even thrusts. Jusis, Alisa and Elliot were the first to respond with fire Arts, which proved to be effective and soon enough, Emma also joined in with surprisingly potent casting. When Laura cautioned them to conserve their orbment energy, the Reinford Heiress claimed she could use her engineering skills to disassemble the orbal lighting on the walls and leech off their energy to charge the ARCUS units. Rean added his vote of confidence by saying he already saw her perform the feat reliably. After the proclamation, the Arts users became far more generous in their castings.

Their little scout was also doing a splendid job. The Arseid swordswoman had pegged her from the beginning as a speedster type and she proved it by constantly staying ahead of them despite the detours she no doubt had to take. Her chalk markings turned into quite a familiar sight, along with the occasional monster corpse. Three green exclamation marks followed by dismembered mechanisms and sprung traps proved she was proficient when it came to disarming them.

Laura was sure the silver-haired girl's expertise also included the _aggressive_ application of traps.

They met their first major skirmish after about an hour into their exploration. Luckily, they had advance warning, for their scout wrote 'monster nest' in blazing letters at a twofold intersection. Soon enough, they arrived at the infestation site, a cavernous hall with a seemingly endless honeycombed ceiling. Strange chimeras, a cross-breed of an overweight feline with bat wings, flapped around clumsily, going in and out of what seemed to be the countless entrances of some tunnel system.

They immediately retreated, before any of the creatures became alert.

"This is bad", Rean murmured.

Gaius nodded. "Indeed. There is no way to know how many of them lurk inside these tunnels."

"And they just have to possess flight and have the height advantage", Machias groused.

Alisa sighed. "I so envy our little scout's cloaking Quartz right now."

Laura clapped her hands twice to raise everyone's attention. "This is admittedly quite a challenge", she looked everyone on her team in the eye, "so what we need are options. I think I speak for everybody that we ought to avoid a fight in a fixed position."

"I think we should just try to cross the hall as fast as possible", Elliot Craig chimed in.

Laura felt a slight tinge of disappointment. She thought the son of such a highly decorated officer would show more of a warrior's spirit. She saw him fidgeting, his grip on the Orbal Staff unnecessarily firm. Perhaps it was just the nervousness getting to him?

"I agree we can't linger in the hall", she focused her gaze on him, "but there is every possibility we will be attacked by an overwhelming horde no matter how fast we try to move as a group." She folded her arms. "We are only as fast as our slowest member. Surely there's more to your suggestion than just running?"

To her surprise, the orange-haired youth straightened himself. Suddenly, his stance and demeanor seemed much firmer. Not quite steel, but certainly far from flimsy. His movements were still jittery, but now it seemed more a result of too much energy he didn't quite manage to discharge. She could all but see how his mind began churning.

"Could anyone lend me a class 3 Esmelas Quartz? Mine has been taken away alongside my old combat orbment."

Gaius stepped forward and handed him one without hesitation. "Will this Evade do?"

The orange haired youth nodded vigorously. "Yeah, this is perfect."

"You have a plan, Elliot?", Machias stated.

"Yes, and I'll probably need additional help." He removed the casing on his Orbal Staff. "Anyone proficient with Quartz-circuit wiring?"

"Yes", Alisa and Jusis piped up at the same time. The Albarea heir nodded graciously. "Ladies first."

The Reinford heiress rolled her eyes in good humor. "A word of warning, I'm not an expert. Don't expect me to do technological wizardry or anything."

"Can you short-circuit?"

Alisa put her hands on her hips. "Yes, but why in the name of Aidios would you want to do that?"

"I think we might need an Arts overcharge."

"And pray tell, what kind of amplified Art is worth ruining your weapon for?", Jusis inquired.

The orange-haired youth scratched his head. "A massive sonic boom. I mean, these flying felines have ears right? They might be mutated, but according to basic monster lore, they retain the anatomy of their core species or something along those lines. In other words, their vestibular organ is also located in their ear canal. If their sense of balance is disrupted, I doubt they'll be able to fly around."

Alisa gesticulated wildly. "Slow down a second. What do you mean sonic boom? I have never heard of an Art like this!"

Elliot slumped his shoulders. "Well, I'm the one who kinda developed sonic arts." He spoke in an almost questioning voice, as if he didn't quite believe his own accomplishment. "I had tons of help though."

"Remarkable", Laura smiled, making him blush, "and I agree with your reasoning about how focused noise might affect these creatures."

"Seconded", Rean piped up.

"But isn't it also dangerous for the rest of us?", Emma pointed out. "Your overcharged attack is going to have a wide area effect and even if you direct it away from us initially, some of the sonic waves will be reflected back like an echo."

"Right, I forgot. Ear protection for all. With high energy noise, it's kind of difficult to avoid friendly fire", Elliot chuckled mirthlessly. "I really hope we can cross the hall without resorting to my Art."

Alisa was the first to go for a solution. She dug out a hard cushion from her tool box, calling it a little comfort when repairing machinery while laying face up. She told the rest of them to salvage the stuffing. Laura had to admire her fellow cadet's quick thinking. She knew from her science classes how porous materials made for good sound isolation, but translating knowledge into constructive action this fast? She was indeed among capable individuals.

Gaius volunteered to brutalize the cushion with his hunting knife, carving uniform portions into improvised earplugs. Meanwhile the Reinford Heiress helped Elliot rig his Orbal Staff for the planned sacrificial attack.

She shrugged mentally. If the only sacrifice was his weapon, the prize was indeed small. Even a sword, no matter how mighty or pristine, was just a tool in the end. Tools could be repaired or reforged. If everything else failed, arranging a replacement was also feasible.

The same couldn't be said about human lives.

She saw Jusis working on one of the ARCUS units with Emma standing close beside him. Curiosity took over and she stepped towards them to watch the Albarea heir fiddle with a screwdriver, his face set in a stony expression. The back-cover of the combat orbment was removed revealing the interior. All Laura could perceive was a web of wiring and processors. Gone were the familiar cogs and gears of the previous models, though on closer inspection she could still make out a few of them.

"Are you trying to synchronize Quartz across an orbment line?"

Jusis sighed. "Emphasis on 'try'." He put the cover back and handed the ARCUS to Emma. "My apologies, Lady Millstein, but it seems my idea was overly hasty. Configuring the circuits on this beast of a contraption is beyond me."

"It's okay. I was the one to come forward in the first place."

Laura smiled. "I have noted your casting is particularly powerful." She tilted her head. "May I call you Emma?"

She laughed shyly. "Oh of course. Well, I read that combat orbments could draw out more powerful Arts when several Quartz were pooled together, but I didn't realize the actual process was so difficult."

"If it were the old models, I could do it in minutes." Jusis huffed." Of course, they just had to provide us with prototype orbment models, whom nobody knows how to properly use, as if this ridiculous 'obstacle course' isn't already trying enough."

"But perhaps that's the point." Rean blended into the conversation.

"Oh?" Jusis quirked an eyebrow. "How so?"

The black haired swordsman gestured around them. "Look at us, people from different social classes and different backgrounds using our different specializations to work towards a single goal. Giving us unfamiliar orbments puts us outside our comfort zones, which kind of reflects this whole mixed class setting, don't you think?"

Laura and Jusis both nodded slowly. "Putting it like that, this whole orienteering exercise suddenly sounds much more meaningful than I initially thought."

"I'm loathe to admit it, but perhaps that bumbling woman does possess a speck of sense."

Emma chuckled. "There is this nice saying: Necessity is the mother of inventions. With limited resources, we are forced to become creative."

The Albarea heir nodded. "True words. Though we still need a contingency in case Elliot Craig's Orbal Staff stunt blows up in our faces. I hoped we could synthesize a wide area fire art, but with the ARCUS models being obstinate...", he trailed off delicately.

"I will be the contingency", Laura announced.

The others present looked at her in wonder. Only Rean seemed amused. "A secret technique of the Arseid School?"

Laura flipped her lone hairlock. "Not exactly secret, but difficult to perform. If I use it, I will be exhausted for a while, so you and Gaius will have to do vanguard duty on your own."

He gripped the sheath of his tachi. "Noted."

"We are ready!" Alisa cried out. Their group turned to the Reinford Heiress.

"Guess it's show time", Rean murmured.

* * *

Their group sneaked back to the cavern. Their hand-sign coordination was a little stiff, but serviceable. The creatures were still fluttering around in their overhead tunnel system, but right now, they were ignored. All cadets looked at each other and nodded.

Then, they started to run.

The cavernous hall was almost two hundred arge wide, a distance Laura could dash across in about fifteen seconds if she really pushed herself. But as she stated, they were only as fast as their slowest member. Like her background suggested, Emma had the biggest problem keeping up and soon enough, the movements of the flying chimeras became erratic.

Even expecting the worst, the sheer deluge of monsters pouring out of the tunnels was completely, utterly unreal. A dark, wobbly cloud of bodies bore down on them. Elliot raised his staff and activated the emergency Art without hesitation.

Even with their earplugs, Laura heard the sound, a high pitched, stinging sensation driving needles into the inside of her ear, the pain shooting down the sides of her face. The Orbal Staff staff was spewing out smoke and sparks. She raised her head and looked up: The flying felines plummeted down like stones, their falling bodies landing with continuous smacks which she didn't hear but could feel through the vibration on the ground.

They still ran, their gazes glued to the ceiling. Their Arts users conjured gusts of wind to steer the falling bodies away from them. When they finally reached the other end, Emma collapsed on her knees, her breathing rhythm completely out of sync.

Laura immediately turned back, sword drawn, ready to defend her comrades. There was no guarantee they were going to end up in the same class. They might not be friends yet, but they had each others backs until now and by her honor, she would do her utmost to return the favor.

Looking at the mass of creatures and their condition, there probably wasn't any reason to worry. Most of them laid motionless on the ground. She saw bend limbs and smashed skulls. Most of the flying felines were bleeding through their ears. There were some occasional convulsions, but even the handful monsters that were not completely incapacitated made no sign of going after their group. They were instead clawing and biting at each other. Did the pain drove them insane?

She removed her earplugs. Like the flip of a switch, inhuman wails and cries assaulted her ears, the sheer amount of suffering squeezing her like a vice. Was this the reason Elliot Craig seemed reluctant on using the very Art he innovated?

Another piercing shriek resonated through the room.

"There is still more coming!", Elliot shouted.

Another swarm descended upon them, the specimens bigger than the ones in the first gargantuan wave, although they were much smaller in number. There was movement at the corner of her right side. Moments later, a couple of sentient rocks literally detached themselves from the wall.

Laura took Emma's arm and pulled her up roughly. "We need to get deeper into the passage! Funnel them so we deal with less enemies."

They moved about fifteen arge further, before Laura raised her left arm in a fist, a signal for all to hold.

The horde of monsters advanced on them like an ominous flood, mostly winged chimeras with some sentient rocks mixed in between. She glanced to Gaius and Rean, a single nod sufficient to confirm their formation. The weapon of all frontliners were long range, so keeping out of each others way was the best they could hope for in this first major fight. Laura readied her Zweihaender, a single pulse of inner energy flowing into the Amberl gem, applying a protection against wear and tear on her blade. The only thing the monsters had going for them were numbers. An application of mundane sword skills should be all she needed. She grinned wolfishly.

Life favored the bold. The swordswoman charged forward greeting a forward straggler with a downward diagonal slash. The weapon cleaved through the monster like butter, the creature breaking apart in a burst of pink blood and gore. She zigzagged away from the carcass, confronting a triplet of the felines charging at her. Laura lowered her stance, rotated her hips sideways and placed her massive blade behind her head.

Zorn stance.

She decapitated three felines in a single horizontal slash. Laura then released her left hand midway through the slash, pulling her own body along the momentum of her sword to add extra speed to a ninety degree turn. With the force bled out to about a half, she let her weapon twirl downward and up on her main hand until it came to rest in high guard with her facing the next monster straight on.

A vicious downward slash, cutting apart her foe from top to bottom, but she was too slow on her return, the next batch of monsters already upon her.

The most important rules when fighting against numerical superiority: Never let the enemies surround you, always take care of your footwork and never, ever relinquish the initiative.

She raised her left arm to intercept the flying feline, the creature too close to effectively fight with her long blade. The moment the monster bit down on her vambrace, she dashed sharply to her right side to gain distance from the two monsters on the tail of the one attacking her forearm, until she came face to face with the wall. Laura pumped force into her legs, adding another burst of speed to her dash as she slammed her left arm against the solid surface - and the creature alongside it.

She heard the breaking of bones, saw the blood fan out from behind the head of the monster like the splash of a ripe tomato bursting, felt her armored forearm dig into the open mouth of the creature, forcefully dislodging its jaw bones.

She dragged her arm out, turning her body a hundred-eighty degrees by merely rotating her hips and shifting her stance. A short assessment. There were some stragglers among the monsters who made it through their melee front line, but Jusis and the other shooters were more than sufficient to finish them off. Trusting her allies to handle themselves Laura continued to do her own job: Making sure the amount of monsters breaking through their front line remained a mere trickle.

Another two felines were upon her, with an additional flying monster charging towards Gaius' unprotected flank. She narrowed her eyes, realizing that every fraction of a second counted. A lightning fast thrust, her muscles burning as she utilized the power of her Master Quartz for the first time, the blade entering the first feline with such force the tip protruded out of its back. The creature uttered a pitiful wail of pain, but Laura was already moving at full speed, carrying the skewered monster on her sword like a deranged shish kebap. While in motion, she performed a downward slash with a ninety degree twist, throwing the monster off her blade, pitching its dying body against the other feline mid-flight.

A surprised squeak told her she struck true, but she was already moving past them, her body gaining even more momentum, until she fell into a sliding step, gliding the last few arge along the ground, her blade positioned like a jousting lance.

Her second thrust caught the sneaking monster right in the back, securing her fellow cadet's flank. Another burst of strength drawn from her orbment as she carried the monster in an upward arc, performing the same maneuver again as she threw another dying carcass at the same feline that already suffered the indignity of getting a companion chucked against its face. This time, Laura saw no reason to prolong its humiliation, using the second the monster was distracted to split it open with another rote downward slash.

There was a lull in the fight she used to look around: Rean was still dealing with his own share of monsters, dancing around their attacks with intricate footwork, dispatching them with efficient ease. Gaius was struggling a little. Due to the superior reach of his spear, he was placed in the middle of the front causing him to face the highest numbers of enemies.

Well, there was no reason to stay idle when a companion was in trouble. She walked towards her fellow cadet, carefully choosing her next target.

There, a sentient rock which continued to harass him. She stepped forward forcefully, slamming her armored leg against the monster to provoke its attention. The cluster of rock turned its front towards her - a mistake. Laura crouched down heavily, her forward leg almost parallel to the ground, her torso on the same level as the monster. She changed her grip on the sword, her left hand closing on the strong of the blade, holding her Zweihaender like an impromptu spear. She performed a precise thrust guided by her half-swording, the tip of her blade burying itself in the small unprotected face of the sentient rock. Laura drew another burst of strength from her orbment, using sheer arm strength to push the weapon deeper. She released the hold of her left hand on the blade, returning to a conventional grip again. Then she performed a full three-hundred-sixty degree twist, aggravating the wound further, her stance and footwork already flowing into another routine as she turned her back towards her slain foe, pulling her sword out in the same motion. A small fountain of black ichor spurt out, but she was already moving again, her sword held in a dragging motion as she intercepted another two felines.

Her upward slash caught one monster dead on while cutting off the wing of the second, causing the wounded monster to careen against the ground in a spiraling dive. She didn't deem the downed foe a second glance. Gaius was going to finish it easily with his pressure lessened. She felt another pang of alarm and turned her attention to Jusis, seeing an exceptionally big specimen threatening his flank, its skin smoking from fire arts, but still going strong. Laura didn't hesitate and threw her Zweihaender full force, the blade describing a lazy arc until it buried itself sideways in the monster's neck, the kinetic force of her thrown weapon flinging it to the ground screaming. Laura felt herself relaxing followed by a strange echo of the same emotion.

She shook her head to dispel the weird sensation, searching for another enemy, but the front was almost devoid of foes now, except for two lone felines diving headlong at Gaius and herself. Laura sidestepped the attack and raised her arms in a classic boxing guard. A firm step-in followed by an one-two combination as she rammed the armored backsides of her fists at the creature, stunning it enough for it to fall to the ground. She didn't relent, kicking the downed monster upwards until it was level with her face before striking it with her right elbow in a savage side-swipe, completely ruining its delicate wing and sending it tumbling down again.

Seconds later, it was finished off by a simple thrust of Rean's tachi.

Laura straightened herself and tapped against her forehead. She felt slightly warm, her skin damp with some sweat, but all in all the fight right now rated as a mere warm-up. Well, who knew how long the maze was going to continue? She needed to pace herself and conserve her strength.

The cadets gathered around each other, the tension in the air replaced by the euphoria of a well earned victory.

"That was one hell of situation", Elliot exhaled, his voice still reverberating with worry.

Machias chuckled weakly. "Agreed, Elliot. I can't remember ever encountering such a swarm, even during the occasional stints into Heimdallr's catacombs. I mean seriously, how many were there? Hundreds?"

Alisa sighed. "Yeah, sounds about right. The instructors weren't joking when they told us to stay together. I hope Fie is okay. This place is downright nasty."

"I think she will be alright", Rean said.

"Yeah", Elliot said. "She seems strangely capable, like nothing ever fazes her."

"Speaking of people fazed by nothing", Jusis spoke up, "here is your sword." He returned her weapon, clearly relieved to be free of the burden. His expression was carefully guarded, until it broke into a small smile. "I suppose I should thank you for your assistance, though I remain puzzled how you can lug around a piece of steel as heavy as this, let alone use it to properly fence."

She smiled softly. "Lots of practice... and long swims in Lake Ebel." She furrowed her brows, thinking back to the recent revelation that her physical strength wasn't entirely natural. She then turned to Emma and bowed slightly. "I apologize for my rough handling, but time was of the essence."

The bespectacled girl shook her head in embarrassment. "Not at all. It was my inadequacy which forced us into the situation in the first place. If I were only faster and had more stamina."

Machias cleared his throat. "You have nothing to apologize for. I think each of us was carefully chosen to cover as many specialties as possible. Nobody can be good at everything, so we shouldn't hesitate to accept each others help to cover our weaknesses."

"Well spoken", Gaius laughed pleasantly. "I also have to thank you for your timely interventions", he told Laura, a soft smile gracing his face, "and you have my admiration. Since coming to Erebonia, I haven't seen someone fighting the way you do, forceful, domineering and very powerful. It's quite different from Court Fencing, like a style born on the battlefield."

She smiled back. "Thank you for your kind words. I am a follower of the Arseid style of swordsmanship. My father, the Viscount, is the current master of the school. Along with the Vander style, it's one of the most influential historical fighting systems in Erebonia, forged in the middle of the War of the Lions." She couldn't help but inject a little pride into her voice.

Her fellow cadet chuckled. "I see. Another example of how the Empire keeps its knightly traditions alive."

"I admit I was doubtful in the beginning", Machias chimed in, "seeing a girl like you strapping on a blade like that, but you certainly proved me wrong with your display. I think you killed almost a third of the monsters by yourself."

"If we discount the horde dispatched by Elliot's sonic Art. On the other hand, is it so surprising to see a woman fend for herself against monsters?"

"Well, it's unconventional...", he began to stutter as he felt the disapproving gaze of Alisa upon him and even Emma was narrowing her eyes, "okay, I ran into this one. Perhaps I should be careful not to run my mouth."

Jusis scoffed. "Considering how you are continuing to do exactly that since entering this... schoolhouse, it would be prudent of you to watch your tongue for a change."

The son of governor Regnitz whirled around. "And who asked you for your opinion? I don't think you have any reason to preach from your high horse, considering you are a mere back-up fighter who needed to be saved by a woman."

Jusis shook his head and raised his shoulders in an elegant shrug, timed for maximum aggravation. "And you still continue to spew your chauvinism without noticing. Is that supposed to be a shining example of your progressive political attitude?"

"I would like to ask your lordship", Machias started in a voice dripping with venom, "to hold your damn mouth! A social relic like you is the last person on Zemuria to have any right to educate me on chauvinism. The disgusting _mating _rituals your ilk practices are an absolute affront with all the unspoken rules enforced like biting shackles on the women, especially if they have the gall to marry outside their station."

Laura sighed and took out a rough cloth from her utility bag. She raised her voice, lacing it with a sliver of killing intent. "I would ask you gentlemen to cease your verbal sparring." Both of them froze. When she was sure she had their attention, she slowly wiped her blade, cleaning off the blood and gore. "I understand both of you feel slighted by the other", she narrowed her eyes, going for another wipe, "and I'm certainly the last person willing to prevent you from getting satisfaction from the other. But right now, we are in the middle of a monster-infested ruin. Whatever grief the both of you have, vent your emotions and antipathy when we are out of here." Another wipe. Her perfectly polite voice gained a further edge. "I'm even willing to play referee for your duel, so I would kindly suggest you hold your horses until then."

It was not a suggestion.

Jusis sighed. "I guess what you say has merit, Laura. Let's call it a truce until we are out of this place."

Machias scowled. "I'm not entering any kind of truce, but as long as you stay off my back, I'm willing to ignore you."

"How magnanimous of you", the Albarea heir countered sardonically.

"Stop it!", Alisa snapped. "We don't need a truce! Just don't shoot each others back and drag the rest of us down with you. Can you do that?"

Both of them looked at the blond, then back at Laura whose blade was still resting in her hands.

Finally, they relented, the duo turning sharply from each other.

Laura sheathed her sword and walked to the front of their group. "Shall we?"

"Yo!", a deadpan voice suddenly chimed right beside them. Almost everybody jumped at the sudden intruder who turned out to be a white-haired girl with an emotionless expression, uncloaking right before their eyes, her right hand splayed in a V-sign again. Laura had do admit that their chosen scout exuded a certain... what was the word - dorky and disarming charm, which was good, because her hand had already drawn her weapon halfway.

"You made it all", she deadpanned.

"You could say that", Rean remarked.

"I've reached the end. We are about two-third finished."

A collective sigh of relief went through their group. "I can't wait to get out of this place", Alisa said, followed by several nods of agreement.

"There's a problem though."

Laura folded her arms. _Of course _there was a problem. "Is it some kind of overwhelmingly strong monster with special abilities, guarding the very end of this maze?"

The silver-haired girl's eyes opened slightly. "Yep."

How surprising. Sometimes reality _did_ conform to fiction.

* * *

As fortune would have it, Fie gave them a pretty clear description of the monster. Unfortunately, said description depicted a monster straight out of mythic legends, a creature from the middle ages - a Gargoyle.

The last stretch didn't pose any problems with Fie's fighting strength added to the mix. They discussed tactics on the way and came up with two plans courtesy of Emma and Rean.

They then made a short stop in front of the final room with Alisa disassembling the lighting to charge their ARCUS units.

Their primary plan depended on Arts after all.

"You know guys, I feel kinda bad gutting these lights", the Reinford Heiress admitted. "It feels like vandalism."

"I'm with you", Machias affirmed. "Think about all the chalk drawings defacing the pristine walls of a hidden historical site like this."

Rean shrugged. "There's a reason archeologists prefer using chalk - it's erasable. Besides, would you have rather traversed the whole maze without Fie's directions?"

The green-haired youth pushed up the bridge of his glasses. "No. I don't think so."

"Last orbment fully charged", Alisa spoke. She handed it to Rean. Laura saw how both their gazes lingered on each other, before they quickly turned their heads. The Arseid inheritor narrowed her eyes. Had they been this awkward around each other the whole time?

No matter. They had a mythic monster to kill.

The final hall turned out to be smaller than expected, with two sets of stairs leading to the exit and the iron wrought chandelier at the ceiling.

The silver-haired girl's scouting work was as impeccable as expected. The creature prowling the room looked like a bat with the torso of a colossal, muscular human. Claws adorned its fore- and hindlegs, formed like metallic sickles and probably just as lethal. Its most distinguishing characteristic was its skin which seemed to be made entirely of rock. Or were the legends true and the Gargoyle was indeed an animated statue? It was stalking to and fro, its massive presence giving the room a claustrophobic feeling, but as their group fanned out around their target, it leisurely turned around, its entire body coiled like a spring, the tension of its muscles clearly visible. The rock it was made of looked uncannily alive.

Laura grasped for the connection between herself and the combat orbment. Her body lit up in concert with the others, their synchronization surprisingly accurate, just as the Gargoyle opened its maw and unleashed a bloodcurdling howl.

Five of them unleashed their fire Arts, dousing the creature in flames. It barreled through their sustained attacks, swiping at their most agile member. Fie back-flipped lazily and as the Gargoyle pursued her further, trying to corner her against a wall, she simply scaled it while back flipping in a smooth motion like gravity didn't matter to her, using the vertical surface as a springboard to fly over the creature while firing her Arts.

The creature turned around, still howling. It gave off sparks like an active forge, runnels of glowing rock crisscrossing its body.

"Now!" Emma cried. The other four unleashed volleys of water Arts, the cooling liquid turning to steam. Laura concentrated again, for the water called forth by Arts didn't persist for long, so their last step had to be timed tightly. Fie continued to dance around the monster, her skillful evasion almost mocking, as barrages of water continued to soak the creature.

Emma cried out her signal again, her own Orbal Staff aglow as the reserve members cast again. It was a simple freezing art, nothing offensive, a concerted effort to change the temperature around the creature to sudden sub-zero levels, causing the water the Gargoyle was soaked with to flash freeze.

The creature ceased its movements for a second, until the ice vanished, but the damage was done, cracks and fissures appearing all over its rocky body.

"It's working", Emma spoke.

Laura grinned. Working indeed. The way her fellow cadets applied scientific knowledge in actual combat was a true inspiration, for they just imitated the mechanism of rock erosion on an extremely short time scale. Use strong sustained heat to make the stone expand, opening micro-fractures everywhere due to the rock's rigid consistency. Soak the creature in water and let the liquid permeate into the small cracks and then flash freeze everything. With water having the unique property of expanding its volume when becoming solid the micro-fractures suddenly turned into significant cracks.

Sometimes, problems could be solved far more elegantly without a sword.

As the Gargoyle stomped forward, its maw snapping, flecks of rock were chipping away constantly. Laura raised her ARCUS and cast another fire Art, her comrades following her example. Another round of heating, soaking and freezing later, the monster collapsed with chunks of rock instead of chips flaking off its massive frame.

"Did we beat it?", Elliot asked tentatively.

Laura drew her sword. "I don't think so."

She felt it before any visible phenomena: Dark, sickly waves of miasma pouring out of the monster, roiling along its body. The rock seemed to melt, becoming like plasticine. The skin changed hue, turning from grey to gold as the fissures they caused simply closed themselves.

"No way!", Machias cried.

"Truly a monster of myth." Gaius readied his spear.

Laura looked up to the big, iron chandelier. Then she turned to Rean and Fie. They nodded to each other. It was time for Plan B. The black-haired swordsman ran towards the stairs, while Fie dashed straight to their foe. One daring jump and she was crouching on its head. Split seconds later, the creature let out another howl, but Fie didn't idle, unloading a twin barrage of bullets straight into the creature's eyes. The sounds uttered by the monster until now were merely bloodcurdling, but the roar of concentrated pain and rage was earth-shattering. Laura winced from the pain in her ears as the transformed Gargoyle went into a frenzy, thrashing around like an oversized berserker from hell. Fie was of course out of range, stopping right beside her.

"Your turn."

She could swear there was the ghost of a teasing smirk on her face.

Cheeky girl, aggravating the monster more than necessary. The swordswoman slowly lowered her blade, walking towards the raging foe, watching as runnels of quicksilver liquid poured out of its ruined eyes. She forced herself to breathe calmly, loosening every muscle she could sense. She conjured the sensation of her swimming trips in Lake Ebel, the push and pull that laid at the core of every swimming technique.

The flying felines were crushed by her overwhelming strength, but now the roles were reversed, with her being the ant prowling in front the lion.

Use the strong to defeat the weak. Use the weak to defeat the strong.

The first slash of her blade was impossibly gentle, the edge of her weapon kissing the snout of the golden monstrosity. It turned around violently, trying to rip off her head, but she moved into a low crouch, the massive arm missing her completely. Laura righted her sword again, resting the flat of her blade on the outstretched arm of the Gargoyle like the caress of a lover. Again, the monster tried to reach her and again Laura simply went with its motion, staying in its ever-changing blind spot, her blade never cutting, never harming, never wounding, but always in contact with the body of her foe. She almost stumbled once or twice, when it changed its mode of attack to include wing slaps and tail swipes, but the others interjected with either cover fire or a spear thrust, allowing her to go back to her sword-sensing. She grew more comfortable the longer she continued the deadly dance, flowing around like water, substantial enough to be felt, but too slippery to be grasped.

Bit by bit, Laura steered the monster towards the center of the room, her mind empty and full at the same time, her body filled with an overflowing sense of purpose and direction. Once they reached the center, she changed the rhythm of her baiting, pinning the monster in place through gentle provocation. When the chandelier dropped onto the monster with Rean jumping from the iron construct at the last second, she lost her connection to her foe, the almost meditative state of her being lost alongside, for this time, several hundred curim of metal were doing the job of pinning the Gargoyle to the ground.

She shook herself free from her trance only to see the monstrosity struggling, its rage giving it unfathomable strength as it tried to pry itself free from the chandelier. It didn't come far, because a fire art detonated against it.

This time, every single member of Class VII unloaded sustained heat on the dying beast. Laura herself had activated her ARCUS without realizing at first, but as she saw the blackened iron starting to smoulder, it became clear fire was the way to go. As the red hot metal scorched even deeper into the monster, the pain and wounds finally became too much and the it collapsed a second time.

The Gargoyle didn't rise again.

They heard someone applauding.

"Well done, cadets!" Laura looked up and there they were, Major Neithardt and instructor Valestein standing at the top of the balustrade. The fuchsia haired female looked like the canary that ate the cream. She went down the stairs while humming contently.

"You guys kick a lot of ass", a flippant voice called out. Their group looked to the door they came from, just to catch the moment when a cadet in green uniform de-cloaked himself. He was tall and well trained. Laura couldn't really gauge his strength in fact. His wild hair was white and only barely tamed by a bandana, but what was most striking was his bearing: A cocksureness which towed the line between confidence and arrogance, similar to the sons of nobles who tried to woo her during social gatherings, but less refined, more wild and raw. His walk was one part the swaggering of an overeager fool and one part the balanced steps of a seasoned warrior.

All in all, he was a study in contrasts.

"Wait, Crow?" To exactly no ones surprise Elliot was again the one acquainted with someone from Thors.

"Heya, big E! How are you doing?" Both shook hands, though Laura watched with some bemusement how the orange-haired youth held himself back from hugging the other cadet outright.

"Why are you here? Are you also a part of this class program?", Elliot asked.

"Nah, I'm not wearing one of your snazzy, red jackets, am I?"

"You were our back-up in case something went wrong, weren't you?", Rean asked.

The white-haired cadet shrugged. "Guilty as charged, Mr smarty-pant. And congratulations on beating the obstacle course."

"Oh, I wouldn't say they have beaten it quite yet", Instructor Valestein interrupted.

All cadets looked at her askance. The white-haired youth was the first to react. "You've got to be kidding me!"

Fie drew her weapons and adopted her combat stance.

Instructor Valestein chuckled. "You both know me so well. Now Crow, this is Class VII's orienteering exercise, so stay out of it. You know the drill, right?"

"Yeah, yeah!", he walked up the stairs. "If you get seriously hurt or killed in the ensuing fight, I'm to serve as a witness that it happened with your full consent and that no blame is to befall the cadets." He shook his head. "Shouldn't you get yourself a boyfriend to work off your sadistic tendencies, Sara?"

"Crow, do you want a repeat of the Sara Special Exercise No. 3? If you continue to run your mouth, I might let you do it again."

He froze in his tracks. "No, I'm good."

The fuchsia-haired female unholstered a vicious looking pistol, something which wasn't standard issue for sure.

"Wait, why do we suddenly have to fight you, instructor?", Machias complained. Several others were also voicing their discontent.

"Do you think it's unfair?", instructor Valestein asked.

Laura stepped forward. "With all due respect, this obstacle course has been challenging enough. Some among us are exhausted, cadet Craig here has sacrificed his weapon and I think observer... Crow can easily confirm we have all demonstrated our merit while traversing it."

"Oh, he already did. ARCUS are convenient like that." She raised her firearm and disengaged the safety, "but you, Ms Arseid, are still thinking about the issue like it's some kind of exam." She pointed the barrel straight at their group her body lighting up with Epstein-Kowalski radiation, except it was purple? "It's not. The coursework for Class VII is special. This situation is supposed to be unfair, because you are bound to encounter the same kind of unfairness if you decide to take the plunge. I'm not forcing you to face me. Each and every one of you is free to go up the stairs and leave the building. But if you do that, you aren't welcome in _my_ class anymore."

"And what if we lose?", Jusis asked.

Instructor Valestein grinned. "You are supposed to lose."

The Albarea heir quirked an eyebrow. "We are allowed to come at you together, right?"

"I strongly suggest you do", her voice rang out with flawless confidence.

Rean drew his tachi. "Well, instructor, if this is what it takes to earn your approval."

"Wait, wait. We have just finished a monster extermination", Elliot spoke up. "Some of us are carrying live ammunition. This is dangerous!"

"Good. Come at me with everything you have. Your martial-arts techniques, your weapons, your Arts. Leave nothing out. The guys up there ensure you won't suffer any consequences, if you land a lucky shot." She winked.

Laura and Jusis also drew their swords and the others followed with some hesitation.

"This is crazy", Alisa murmured.

"And very unconventional", Gaius mused. He sounded nervous.

The fuchsia-haired woman raised her empty hand and made a come-hither gesture.

They spread out, seeking to surround her. Their movement wasn't quite synchronized, but this was still the first time they attempted to work in a team. Laura lowered her sword to the side, with the tip pointing back.

Nebenhut.

Alisa, Fie and Machias opened fire, arrow, rifle and pistol rounds flying at her. She dodged the rounds with small sways of her body and shot Alisa's arrow down with her own pistol. Then she went to the offensive.

The ensuing skirmish could only be described as a slaughter. A bloodless one. The instructor wasn't fighting to kill, which bode ill for her true strength. Jusis was the first to engage her in melee. She didn't even bother to draw the sword she was carrying, stepped inside his guard with a burst of speed and shot him point-blank, resulting in the Albarea heir collapsing with convulsions all over his body. Gaius and Rean tried to overwhelm her in a pincer attack, while the ranged fighters continued their barrage. Two streams of water Arts were added to the mix, courtesy of Elliot and Emma. Laura began to move, covering another vector of attack. Again, instructor Valestein dodged the projectiles with insulting ease and charged at Gaius who answered with a mighty thrust, his spear coated in green-tinged turbulence. The frightening woman side-stepped the attack so fast as if she teleported, the aggressive winds circulating around the spear shaft completely ignoring her. She then gripped the shaft with her free hand, raised the Nord Warrior up, until his feet left the ground and threw him straight into the course of the water streams.

The water arts hit him mid-air and threw him in an arc, but Laura tuned out the image and concentrated on her assault. The first upward strike was again dodged. Rean continued with a quick-draw slash, but the woman ducked down, until she was crouching on the ground like a snake, thus Rean's second attack with his sheath also missed. Laura herself shifted her stance and stabbed diagonally down, cautious enough not to change her grip for a straight vertical attack.

The woman subverted expectations again, raising her whole body from a completely prone position to a one-half arge jump with forward flip. Before Laura had any time to marvel at this feat of acrobatics, she felt a massive weight stomp down on the strong of her blade, completely disrupting her footing.

Did she just...

Another irresistible tug on her blade, further destroying her footing. Laura turned around desperately, completely losing her balance in the process. She only had enough presence of mind to raise her arms. To protect her vitals.

She expected more force as the bullet impacted with her vambrace, but then she lost all control as fiery needles coursed through her limbs, piercing shivers robbing her of any autonomy. She snapped for air, but it was like breathing while underwater. She felt herself smack to the ground, convulsions racking every part of her body, as she floundered like a fish on dry land.

Shame filled her, her helplessness more painful than whatever the cursed instructor inflicted upon her. She tried to clench her fists, but her body still refused to obey.

What manner of fighting style was that? She saw no rhyme nor reason, no system nor rule which governed the woman's actions. The way she did combat was utterly haphazard as if she was making up things on the fly the whole time.

Breathing became easier. She tried to move her right arm, only to be rewarded with another wave of pricking needles setting her on fire from the inside, followed by ice-cold numbness. She clenched her teeth and summoned her willpower.

She stood up in increments, dividing a movement she took for granted into small subsets. Each little step elicited another burst of needles, but after some painful moments, she was finally standing upright again, her sword resting in her grip.

Instructor Valestein had drawn her sword now. Rean was disarmed, Gaius held his sides, Jusis was still convulsing. The ranged fighters and Arts users had surrendered. Only Fie was still in the fight, with both woman dancing around each other like two bloodthirsty carnivores, their sheer movement exuding menace and understated violence.

She raised her sword and gathered her inner energy. She pictured a tempest above Lake Ebel, the treacherous maelstroms which could spell doom for the careless. She breathed in and as she exhaled, blinding White extended from the tip of her Zweihaender, the whole blade engulfed in her purified spirit.

When she advanced, she saw the first surprise on the strange woman's face. Two shots rang out, but Laura batted them away with the spiritual extension of her blade. Whatever Valestein was using, metal was no protection. Fie used their enemies slight pause to launch a dashing attack fast enough to be invisible. The instructor still managed to dodge somehow, but part of her whipping ponytail was cut.

Laura moved into pincer position, performing three consecutive thrusts with her blade of light. Valestein dodged the first two attacks, but was forced to parry the third. Laura pressed her offensive, sticking her sword to Valestein's own, using her blade-sensing to control her movements. The instructor wasn't able to match her fencing, so she simply dropped her own sword, refusing to be drawn into a losing game. That split-second distraction was enough for Fie to land the first hit, a cut at her mid-section, though the instructor was still able to divert her twin muzzles to avoid having the silver-haired girl unleash her signature point-blank barrage.

She performed a diagonal downward slash which the woman somehow parried with her pistol, though her arm was visibly shaking afterward. The sound of a pin dropping. She retreated instinctively with Fie aborting her follow up attack to instead go for the thrown grenade with a sliding kick. The explosive flew towards the ceiling.

_Don't look._

It wasn't so much words, but an indistinct feeling. Akin to instinct, it told her to hold her gaze level and close eyes for a second.

The blackness became red. A flashbang. She opened her eyes, colored stars disorienting her, but Valestein wasn't able to capitalize on her distraction, for Fie was engaged with her in extreme close quarters, their arms mere blurs as they ceaselessly pushed, struck and steered each other to prevent the barrel of their firearms to line up on their bodies. Occasional shots rang out, accompanied by last second dodges or deflections, but Laura saw no reason to let the stalemate continue.

_Disrupt her footing. _

With the sword raised, she drew energy from her orbment and did something which was sacrilege to the blade under normal circumstances - smashing it against solid rock. The coating of spirit energy protected the metal. The subsequent shockwave ate away at the ground, shooting straight for their enemy.

This time, she didn't find a counter. Her feet slipped away as the ground disintegrated from under her, her posture broken. Fie landed a vicious elbow strike straight against the woman's face, the sound of a broken nasal bone ringing clear across the hall. But even in such a situation, the instructor kept her cool, using the impact of the strike to let herself fall on her back. She brought up her legs in the same movement and kicked the silver-haired girl away. She then swung her legs like a pendulum and used the motion-energy to haul herself upright again.

Just in time to face another thrust from Laura's sword.

Valestein side-stepped and disengaged. She pursued with Fie joining right behind her.

_Three-dimensional pincer attack. _

Were it mere words, Laura wouldn't have understood, but the mental image and body-feeling told her exactly what her partner meant. She pumped another burst of energy into her legs, held her extended blade like a jousting lance and charged. She felt tiny feet step on her shoulders, using her as a springboard.

Nowhere was it written a pincer attack had to occur from the front and back. That was just the most conventional form. An attack from above and the ground could be just as effective. Laura saw her blade reach closer, hungry for blood, with Fie priming her gunblades for an aerial assault.

She stumbled, her feet caught in something, her balance threatened. She looked down. Steel wires?

The wave of burning pain and shivering needles was a familiar sensation now, but the familiarity did nothing to lessen the shock, the agony consuming her until she lost consciousness.

* * *

**The Arseid Style of Swordsmanship and German Historical Fencing: **When looking at the spread information about the Arseid Style (AS) in CS1 and CS2, there are some striking parallels with historical fencing styles from European middle ages. I'll first list all the facts I remember before I discuss the similarities with a certain real world '_Fechthandbuch_' (Instruction book on fencing)

\- The Arseid School is a branch Style of Lianne Sandlot's Fighting technique, utilized by the Lance Maiden's second in command.

\- It saw usage during the War of the Lions. Looking at the statues in Legram, Dreichels' flashback seen through Rean's eyes during the Aqua Shrine side quest, as well as Duvalie's equipment, we can infer that both Arseid and Sandlot style could be used by persons wearing full plate armor. There's every possibility both styles display their true power when the practitioner is fully armored.

\- Given that the War of the Lions was fought way before the Orbal Revolution, it can also be inferred that the regular enemies encountered by Prince Dreichels' band were in part also equipped like the Eisenritter. Mounted combat was probably a mainstay during regular warfare. In other words, AS had to be effective when used against other armored and mounted opponents.

\- The AS apparently doesn't care much in which weapon you train as long as it's a melee weapon as opposed to the Eight Leaves One Blade (Rean's whole Zemurian Tachi shtick). The four nondescript NPCs you get to beat up in the Arseid Dojo in CS1 and CS2 are an even split between Spear and Broadsword users while Klaus himself uses a sword I would rather expect on a Court Fencer.

I'm not sure how popular they are, but there are so called HEMA-groups (Historical European Martial Arts) who try to recreate lost martial arts techniques by studying historical documents. They transcribe the text, discuss and interpret the pictures and then try to synthesize the information into a coherent fighting system. They of course also do sparring like any other respectable martial arts group.

Now, one of the most influential fencing documents in the HEMA community happens to be a German one - the 'Nürnberger Handschrift GNM 3227a' dated to the close of the 14th century. It covers a lot of topics, but the combat instruction is what's relevant, for it includes armored combat with the longsword (Harnischfechten), unarmored combat with the longsword (Blossfechten), mounted combat as well as wrestling with the sword (Ringen am Schwert). The instructions also branch out to other weapons like the short sword (Messer), sword and shield and even spear and mace fighting.

The parallels to the Arseid style are obvious, but what prodded me to dramatically reduce the blade-width of Laura's sword was a passage describing the longsword as the basic weapon from which the usage of other weapons are derived (I'm paraphrasing). This is somewhat counter-intuitive, because spears and clubs (A mace is just a fancier club) are historically older weapons and more primitive regarding technique and the manufacturing process.

And the way the longsword can also teach one to use a spear or club? Well, if one hand is holding the grip and the other hand closes around the base (or strong) of the blade, the longsword turns into a makeshift spear. This half-swording was an integral part in Harnischfechten (against fully armored opponents), because it allowed sword-thrusts to be more accurate and back then, they beat enemies in plate armor by stabbing them in tiny vulnerable segments where two or more plates overlap like at the joints. The base of some longswords during the middle ages were actually left blunt to make the half-swording more comfortable. Such a segment is called a _ricasso _and there were even swords with a second set of a 'swordguard', basically two hooks protruding from either side of the blade right above the ricasso for catching a sliding blade even when the fighter was half-swording. Another advantage of half-swording was that it made slashing attacks at really close quarters feasible. While power is sacrificed, cutting an enemy who is bashing you with his fists with mere centimeters separating both opponents could be a worthwhile trade-off.

Of course, the mace or warhammer option is also possible by grabbing the blade with both hands and turning the swordguard into a makeshift blunt instrument, which was also effective against armored opponents. This technique was called _Mordstreich _(Murder slash) and yes, Laura will use it at some point. And for those of you wondering: Wearing leather gloves is fully sufficient to avoid injury when wielding a sword this way. I watched a video where a HEMA enthusiast demonstrated it on live camera. (He also demonstrated the cutting power of the sword beforehand)

**Zorn (German for wrath) stance: **One of the stances described in the above mentioned combat manual. If my written passage isn't enough to give you a picture, simply look up Laura's S-Craft image from CS1. The way she holds her blade is pure Zorn stance, although her footwork is admittedly not quite fitting.

**Nebenhut stance: **Rean's default stance the moment he draws his tachi. Every Cold Steel player should have the sight burned into their memory. I haven't yet found out how the stance is called in Japanese, but the _exact_ same version exists in European Longsword Fencing, so Laura gets to use it, too. In the end, I guess there are only so many ways a longsword can be wielded, slightly curved or not.


	6. Teaching,Training and other Trivialities

**Thors Officer School, ToCS1 Outside the Fairy Tale**

**Chapter 6 – Teaching, Training and other Trivialities**

**A/N: A transitory chapter. Sorry it took so long, but I'm not really good with those. Unfortunately, next chapter is another transitory one. I need to put characters and events into place before the plot can properly advance and before I set everything on fire. **

Pain was the first thing to greet her in the morning. Backside, nose and muscles felt sore and there was even a swirling mix of numbness and itchiness growing like vines inside her. A sign of nerve damage. She hugged her warm pillow, pretending for a moment it was the firm, warm body of a dashing gentlemen keeping her company in bed.

But alas, delusions weren't supposed to last.

Sara reached with her hand inside her other pillow, the one she was laying on and drew out her pistol from inside the stuffing. Not exactly the most comfortable way to sleep, but a girl needed her protection.

She carried the firearm into the bath, glad that each room in the Class VII dormitory included its own shower. The scalding water running down her body only aggravated the bruises she got yesterday, but the heat also felt purifying in a way. Good thing colonel Beatrix had already treated the worst. Despite her physically active lifestyle, she took care about her appearance. How else would she ever attract herself a nice older hunk with an air of sophistication?

The fuchsia-haired woman gently prodded her nose, scowling as the pain became more intense. Curse the little imp, ramming her elbow straight against her face. She stopped the shower, the sudden silence oppressive. The sound of water droplets on the ground only emphasized the stillness.

Blaming little Fie, was that any way for a teacher, a mentor to even think? She felt her soaked waist-length hair dragging her down, her bangs pressing against her eyelids.

No two ways about it. She fucked up. Royally.

She stepped out of the shower cabin, slipped into the fluffy bathrobe, one of the luxuries she allowed herself, and began to wring out her hair.

It was supposed to be easy. Nothing but routine. Show the kids how given mission parameters could change at the drop of a hat. Bracer examiners did it all the time. She just imitated what was done with her during her Junior Bracer days. If the kids didn't ace the underground test that much, she would have left them alone. She was hardly someone kicking others when they were down, but Victor Arseid, one dreamy man if she ever saw one, insisted she test their dedication. Sara very much agreed, but it seemed the new cadets were intent on exceeding expectations even on the first day.

That was, if this Class VII were to form in the first place. Most of them were fine, but Laura Arseid had to be carried out on a stretcher and Fie suffered a minor fainting spell. After Beatrix did her diagnosis, it was clear both girls pushed themselves beyond their limits, but the fight at the end really shouldn't have escalated beyond the point of no return.

A point where there was no other option but to take the opponent out of the game. Hard.

Using the signature weapon of that pesky Ouroboros Enforcer against a bunch of freshmen left a bad aftertaste in her mouth though. Sara still remembered the expression of the other cadets. Horror and paleness on the bookish girl. The display of violence probably scared her away from Thors in general. It was a shame considering her top marks, but really, even without the Field Studies the coursework here wasn't truly about academics.

The Heimdallr city boys took the situation better, if only barely. Both were clearly shocked and she could almost feel the resentment pouring out of Machias Regnitz. The others seemed merely confused, though both male nobles overcame their bewilderment quickly.

Bah, there was nothing to be done about the situation as long as she wallowed in doubts inside her own bathroom. She quickly tied her hair with a scrunchy, her locks still damp from the shower, and dressed herself properly in the instructor's uniform. As much as she loved to flaunt her disregard for military protocol, today wasn't the day to step on toes.

At least Neithardt didn't mind her heavy-handed approach. Training accidents happen, he said. She was frankly surprised at his blasé attitude, given that she beat a scion of House Arseid unconscious on the first day.

Sara took the direct route from the dormitory towards the campus, eschewing her routine visit to Micht's. First stop: The infirmary. She wanted to visit Fie and Laura, but the moment she entered Colonel Beatrix's sanctuary, the old woman called her over.

"Stop right there, young lady", the head physician at Thors said in her most authoritative voice. She was busy sorting her patient files, but her situational awareness was flawless as always. Sara froze mid-step. She may dislike the military's attitude on general and their old-boy-club-mentality in particular, but she would always listen to the Colonel. "Just wanted to visit my would-be students. If I'm lucky."

Beatrix tutted. "This pessimism is unbecoming of you, Sara. Sit down, I need to have a look at your nose."

She slumped her shoulders in defeat. "Yes ma'am."

Some prodding and questions later, the colonel cast a Tear Art. Seconds later, Sara felt how it became easier to breathe through her nose again. "Couldn't you have done it yesterday?"

"No, I couldn't. The Tear Art works through empowering the fluid inside the patient and is very good at closing wounds or at higher levels even replenishing lost tissue in a limited fashion. Your swollen nose is caused through an accumulation of fluid though, and overt casting runs the risk of sealing the excess where it doesn't belong surrounded by healed tissue. Water Healing Arts are terrible when it comes to removing pathological build-up. Casting it on cancer patients is about the stupidest thing one can do."

Sara squeezed her nose. It still hurt a little.

Beatrix smiled softly at her reaction. "I want the last bit to heal naturally. If the swelling completely disappears beforehand, I might speed up things again." She pushed up her glasses and folded her hands. "There's another thing I want to talk about. It concerns Fie."

The fuchsia-haired woman straightened herself immediately. "Lay it on me!"

"I think she has insomnia."

"She what?"

"Chronic lack of sleep."

This she didn't expect. "Colonel, she naps all the time."

A curt nod. "I'm aware. The girl regularly uses the infirmary to get some shut-eye, but this isn't true sleep."

Sara pinched the bridge of her nose. There was a prick of pain, but she ignored it. When it came to the health of soldiers or warriors, there was almost no better authority than Beatrix. She wasn't so foolish to dismiss her claims. "What exactly is the problem?"

"Her insomnia will impede her studies for one. Now that Fie starts to attend Thors in an official capacity, she's going to be exposed to a lot of coursework and proper sleep is imperative, if she wants to retain the knowledge she will no doubt acquire."

The former bracer wasn't aware of this one. "So sleeping is important if you want to memorize stuff?"

The physician nodded gravely. "Correct, though the impact on memory consolidation depends on the sleep cycle. The by far most important phase is REM-sleep, which is what Fie is lacking."

"Okay Beatrix, slow down a moment to let me catch up. What is this REM-sleep exactly?"

"The phase when dreams are at their most numerous and intense. And before you say something about dreamless sleep, it doesn't occur, ever, when someone enters REM. We only forget most of them the next morning."

"Dreams?" She swallowed. She then closed her eyes. "Nightmares." Sara bit her lip, while a clump of worry dropped down inside her stomach. The situation of the little Jaeger, it really mirrored her own past, down to the very ugly sordid details. It was almost eerie, or was this what She Who Dwelled Above thought of as irony?

"What can we do?"

"We can use arts to induce sleep as a stop-gap measure."

Sara quirked an eyebrow. "Isn't Church Medicine a gentler approach?"

"It is. It also won't work properly, given her boosted metabolism. There's the option of customizing the sleep medicine to her... physiological condition, but Father Paulo at the Trista Chapel lacks the experience for such an undertaking."

Sara groaned. Stupid Jaeger Enhancements. Well, she had never used sleeping medicine, because copious amounts of alcohol served the same function. It was also much tastier. "And what's the long-term solution?"

Beatrix sighed. "She needs to come to terms with her inner demons. Usually, I would send someone with her problems to a therapist. Thors has several, but while they are familiar with soldiers, a Jaeger, especially one so young is outside their competence zone, I fear."

So that was her angle. "Beatrix, colonel, I'm not a shrink."

The old lady pierced her with a hard gaze. "But you are her guardian."

"This responsibility simply fell into my lap, you know, and what if I screw it up? My only real talent is fighting." She was babbling now, but she couldn't help herself.

Beatrix demeanor remained adamant. "Young lady, as an A-Rank Bracer I don't believe for a second that your only talent lies in fighting. As I said, pessimism doesn't become you. The same with self-recrimination."

Sara sighed. "You are aware that we have both lived inside the same flat for months and I didn't catch on anything?"

The colonel nodded sharply. She then closed her eyes and for a moment, the woman looked terribly old. It wasn't a change directly visible. Beatrix didn't suddenly develop wrinkles, but there was something about her posture, her eyes, which gave off the impression of ancient wisdom paired with ancient burdens. "Sara, are you aware of the hedgehog-paradox?"

"Eh, no. Some kind of medical theory?"

Beatrix shook her head. "Just an old parable that an old woman refuses to forget." She paused. "Imagine a group of hedgehogs during the winter, staying inside their warren. It's cold, so the animals try to huddle together to share body heat with each other. But as they draw nearer, they begin to hurt each other with their spikes. A constant trade-off between warmth and hurt."

Sara folded her arms and tilted her head. "And what is this parable supposed to say?"

"Why, it of course describes human bonds. Just as the sharing of body heat in the winter is crucial for the hedgehogs to survive, we human beings need each other to develop bonds to nurture our souls. And just with the hedgehogs, opening ourselves for bonds makes us susceptible to be hurt. Deeply, the closer we grow."

Beatrix folded her hands in her lap. "It's a difficult thing to accept. Some consider it a bleak kind of truth. But there's much one can learn, if this lesson is taken to heart. About the situation between you and Fie, perhaps living with each other so closely caused you to distance yourselves in your minds, because the sudden nearness was too much to bear. But now that you live in separate rooms inside Class VII's own dormitory, there is perhaps enough distance, so you can grow closer in a proper manner this time."

"I..." Sara stopped herself. "You've given me a butt-load to think about, colonel, but I promise: I'll try talking with Fie." She laughed weakly. "Why did someone like you chose to become a soldier anyway? You would have made one hell of a Bracer, ma'am."

The old lady smiled sweetly. "The folly of youth, I guess. Besides, the Guild wasn't quite the kind of organization it's today, during my teenage years. But enough idle chatter. You should visit your students now."

Sara stood up and saluted. "Yeah, will do. Thanks for everything like always, Beatrix."

After her goodbye, she quickly went to Fie and Laura's room, only to find all members of the prospective Class VII gathered. Nine pairs of inquisitive gazes turned their attention towards her. Sara gulped. She should be used to it by now, doing this instructor shtick for a whole year, but these kids were her responsibility, on a level wholly different than the classes she trained before. And Beatrix was totally evil, not warning her beforehand.

"Hello instructor", Laura said in her tranquil voice.

"Hello to you, too, Laura. I can call you Laura, right? I mean, after beating up each other that much, I think it's just proper to use first names."

The whole class looked at her with a mixture of bewilderment and wonder. Ha! That was a totally awesome Valestein-Icebreaker. Sometimes she was so awesome, she scared herself.

"Thaaat is appropriate, I guess?", the Arseid heiress answered.

"Oh Sara, please stop talking."

The fuchsia-haired woman folded her arms. "Sorry, Fie, but now that we are all here, there's something important we have to talk about."

Almost as one, the kids first looked and then nodded at each other. Then Rean Schwarzer stepped forward. "We have questions, instructor. Several in fact."

"Weeeell, after all the hoops you had to jump through yesterday, I guess I do owe you kids some answers. Shoot!"

"What's up with these ARCUS units, then?", Alisa Reinford asked. Guess she would be the one most curious about the tech.

"You are talking about the connection you felt with each other?"

All the kids nodded again, without a shred of hesitation. Interesting reaction. While some persons undoubtedly reached a higher rate of synchronization, the interplay between her cute troubled junior and Laura came to mind, it was now clear all members in front of her experienced the special feature at least once. Their brilliant teamwork against the gargoyle implied as much, but this was hard confirmation in her mind.

"What you felt is the big selling point of the ARCUS tactical orbment. It's called a Combat Link. It allows you to anticipate each other's actions and tactics in real-time, as if you have been fighting alongside each other for years or even decades."

"Fascinating", Jusis Albarea retorted in a dry voice, "and utterly superfluous." Some of the cadets looked at him questioningly.

The second son of Duke Albarea shrugged. "Making individual soldiers fight as a single unit is an endeavor as old as the concept of a military itself. Standardized weaponry, unit drills, troop movement, tactical formations, uniforms, the building of a so-called _corpsgeist._ All of them measures to make human beings fight effectively in a group. All of them refined over centuries of Erebonian military history. I honestly don't see the appeal of using an expensive gadget as a short-cut to what I mentioned above."

Jusis then scoffed. "Besides, I tried to do Quartz Synchronization with these orbments, without success of course. But looking at all the Argem-processors along with the Goldia-circuit-motherboard, which seems to be cut from a single crystal, I estimate the sheer material cost of one ARCUS unit to be upwards of 250,000 to 300,000 Mira. Add in the manufacturing, research and labor cost, which can't be cheap, put them into retail, Reinford surely wants to make a profit, and I think the final prize is somewhere in the range of 600,000 to 700,000 Mira. I mean, the nobles are wasteful in their spending, but this is excessive, even for us. You could buy two armored cars or a single Dreizehn MkII Assault tank with this much money."

"Wait!", Elliot spoke up. "Are you saying all of us are carrying the equivalent of a whole tank company in our pockets right now?"

The Albarea heir chuckled. "More. Master Quartz don't come cheap either. They are derived from a Septium gem of at least 150 carat, post cutting. After Esmelas-processing to heighten Quartz compatibility, it puts each Master Quartz in the price range of another 150.000 to 200.000 Mira depending on the base Septium type."

"This is nuts", Fie said.

"To get the money for what I'm holding in my palm, my tribe would need to sell ten horses of excellent breeding", Gaius added calmly, while inspecting his ARCUS with awe.

"I guess if anyone understands the worth of processed Septium gems and crystals, it would be you", the Reinford heiress commented.

"Naturally. It's one of the key products of the Kreuzen Province."

Machias sneered, but didn't say anything.

"Well," Sara interrupted, "Your estimate is pretty good, I'll give you that. These things are still in the prototype stage, but the final prize is projected to be around 750,000 Mira. But this is just a number. Despite your grandstanding speech, you don't understand the true worth of the Combat Link at all."

Jusis folded his arms. "Do tell."

The female bracer smirked. "All these traditional measures you just mentioned have one fatal flaw, you know? They sacrifice the individuality of a soldier. You said it yourself: Standardized weapons load-out, standardized ways of fighting. Which makes it predictable and inflexible, so different units with different weapon specializations are fielded to cover each others weaknesses and soon enough, the amount of soldiers on the battlefield gets bloated." She paused. "I think all of you already understand that this class is going to be heavy on combat training, much heavier than your average Officer class. But different than usual military doctrine, I'm going to urge you to develop your individual fighting styles. Nobody in Class VII needs to give up their preferred weapon. On the contrary - I want you to differentiate yourself as much from each other as possible."

"That's very unconventional", Laura remarked.

"More like ludicrous", Jusis added. "Under normal circumstances."

"Except we have a short-cut", Rean piped up.

The Albarea heir sighed. "Your point has been made, instructor. It's still wasteful."

Sara shrugged. "I call it priceless, but hey, different strokes for different folks. Any other questions?"

Machias Regnitz stepped forward. "What is the exact content of the curriculum in Class VII? To be frank, I have no interest in becoming some kind of strong warrior."

She made a throwaway gesture. "No biggie. You don't need to. The theme of Class VII is to turn you into problem-solvers, to make you work as a team despite your different backgrounds. And just like in the dungeon, solving problems requires much, much more than brute force. If you worry that academic teachings are going to be sacrificed for combat training, let me put them to rest: Both are going to be punishingly hard."

Jusis nodded. "This sounds like a challenge. Good."

"And to throw in some further enticement, Class VII is considered an accelerated course. It lasts one year, but if you manage to survive it, it will count as if you already have two Thors years under your belt. It will also make you eligible for a third year at Thors and well, the Principal already explained the implications for that, didn't he?"

"This sounds more exclusive by the minute", Gaius commented.

"There's more", she continued. "Class VII has mandatory field studies. You are going to travel to different places all across Erebonia. Once there, your studies and training are going to be put to the test by tackling real problems which plagues each location. These problems will range from the mundane and trivial to the extraordinary."

Sara saw how several faces lit up after this declaration.

"Let me finish by saying that all of you performed admirably during yesterdays orienteering exercise. If you decide to take the plunge, I'm going to support you all the way. I also want to apologize for my heavy-handed approach during the last fight." She focused on Laura and Fie. "It was not my intention to beat both of you to this extent." She bowed.

"Please raise your head, instructor Valestein." Laura said. "It's clear to me that despite everything, you were still holding back. If anything, the fight yesterday showed me just how far I still have to go. For that you have my thanks." The blue haired swordswoman closed her eyes for a moment. "I hereby join Class VII as a member. As someone walking the path of the sword, this course sounds like excellent training."

The fuchsia haired woman smiled. "We have our first candidate. Any more volunteers?"

Rean Schwarzer stepped forward next. "I told all of you about my background yesterday. The separation between the classes has been a problem for me for a very long time." He straightened himself. "I sincerely hope it won't hound me as much if join this class."

"I still have my reservations about this course," the Albarea heir started, "but I guess the positives outweigh the negatives. I, Jusis Albarea, shall become part of Class VII."

Machias scoffed. He then blanketed his face and stepped forward, too. "My reason for attending Thors is because I want to study Erebonian society, and despite the less palatable parts of the course", he glared at Jusis, " the mixed class system as well as the field studies fit my objective more than perfectly. Count me in."

This was going better than she hoped.

"Monitoring the ARCUS system is almost reason enough for me to be part of this course", Alisa declared. "Learning about military culture is just another bonus. The army is Reinford's best customer."

"I came to study in the Empire because of the goodwill of its people", Gaius mused. "Right now, this nation is willing to extend even more of its goodwill towards me. This is an honor, but also a responsibility. I'm really interested to learn why I of all people deserve this privilege, but according to my tribal customs, rejecting such a great gift is an affront of the highest order, for it implies that the gift bearer has poor sense." He straightened himself. "I will not see Erebonia's continued goodwill wasted."

Sara honestly didn't expect such eloquence from the foreigner. Showed what she knew. She clapped her hands. "Nicely said."

Elliot was next. "I decided to attend Thors in the first place to spread out and learn more about the wider world. This course seems perfect for this, although I fear I won't measure up to the high standards. But all of you people seem really nice and if this class is truly about teamwork, I want to give it a try."

Emma Millstein stepped forward, despite not being part of the conversation until now. "You all know I became part of Thors in the first place due to a scholarship. To be honest, my reason for being here is pretty mundane: I want to become part of the army to financially support my family. If this institution sees it fit to put me in an accelerated course, who am I to refuse?"

The fuchsia haired woman quirked an eyebrow. She didn't expect this. If anyone was going to refuse to become part of Class VII, it would be this girl. She saw the other kids offer her sympathetic words and gestures and if she didn't know about her dossier, she would probably be among them. Interestingly enough, both Rean and Jusis watched her guardedly. It wasn't quite open suspicion they showed, but they seemed at least skeptical.

Were they simply sharp or did their life experience taught them not to take things at face value? Nah, probably both.

Of course, there was still one last person who hadn't spoken up. "Okay Fie. What about you?"

The white haired Ex-Jaeger tilted her head. "Do you think we can be as fun as that other group?"

The other cadets looked at her questioningly. Sara inhaled deeply. "This depends in part on you, Fie. This is one advantage of taking life in your own hands. You get a say in making the world the way it is."

The girl stared at her intently. "Sounds like a pain", she finally muttered. Then, she looked each and every member of Class VII in the eye, her gaze resting the longest on Laura. Finally, a tiny smirk hushed across her lips. "But this class needs at least one member, who knows what she's doing." She nodded.

So all nine candidates decided to participate. What an unexpected outcome. The bracer and now instructor of Class VII folded her hands behind her back. "In this case, I declare the inauguration of Class VII complete. Welcome on board, kids. I promise you it'll be a wild ride."

* * *

"Hello, this is the outer office of the Reinford Group's CEO", the playful voice resounded through her ARCUS speaker. "My name is Sharon Krueger, how may I serve you, Lady Alisa?"

The Reinford Heiress pinched the bridge of her nose. "How do you know I'm the one calling? This is the first time I've used the ARCUS for something like this."

"Oh, this is a question easily answered, my Lady. My overflowing love for the Reinford family alerts me when one of you seek contact. A resonance of the heart so to speak."

"The ARCUS probably has a unique call signature", Alisa grumbled, "and knowing you, you have them all memorized." She exhaled. "No matter, Sharon. Redirect me to mother, please."

"I reckon this isn't a purely social call?"

"Tell her it's all business", Alisa spat. "That should get her attention. And please, make sure the line is absolutely secure."

"At once, my Lady."

The blonde waited about two minutes for the connection. She thought it would take longer.

"It's not everyday you ask for a secured line, Alisa. Seems like military culture at least raises your awareness. What do you want?"

She narrowed her eyes. No greeting, no pleasantries, straight to the point. She expected no less, but it still hurt - like always. She breathed in and braced herself. Two could play the game. "How has the Reinford Group got itself an _Artifact_?"

A pause.

"Is there any basis to your allegation?"

"Stop playing games, mother", her voice was so cold, she surprised herself. "Instructor Sara told us about the ARCUS functionality and I took a peek at the circuity. Pure Argem processors without a whiff of silicon. I can put two and two together."

A chuckle. "The Imperial Family did us a favor. They granted the Reinford Group a wondrous little communication device with several powerful abilities. On the surface, it was simply a handheld phone which could piggyback on any kind of Orbal Communication Wave. It couldn't be jammed nor tapped. It was a lucky break really, when a second device of that nature came into the vicinity of our labs. It was then we discovered its short range capabilities."

"The Combat Link."

"That's how I pitched it to the military, but you should be aware the sharing of mind and perception can be used for far more than physical violence."

She thought about Laura and Fie. "What about sharing emotions?"

Another pause. "The Research Division didn't report anything of that nature. Then again, none of the developers engaged in any kind of serious fighting. Reading the action reports from Class VII will be very enlightening", she mused. "You did decide to join, didn't you?"

Now that she mentioned it, a certain black haired youth came to mind. "Yes I did. Were you responsible for the selection process?"

"Only by the barest of association. I relegated it to the 4th Division, whose orbal-physiologists worked up an aptitude estimate for the ARCUS units. Interestingly enough, Prince Olivert rebuffed the aptitude ranking and cited respectable scientific papers to prove some of the researchers at the 4th Division were biased with their calculations. It caused quite a stir."

Alisa's breathing hitched. "Wait, are you talking about the 'Debaucherous Prince'? He's involved with Class VII?"

"Yes."

An uncomfortable pause fell between them. When it was clear that no answer was forthcoming, she rubbed her eyes. "Whatever. So the Reinford Group reverse engineering an Artifact, it's all considered above-board?"

"Yes. The Royal Families in Zemuria have certain privileges when it comes to handling them. Utilizing an Artifact illegally carries heavy repercussions. Heavier than even you think. I would ask you not to share this information freely."

"That goes without saying." She frowned. "Did you use the capabilities of the Artifact as a bargaining chip? You know, for wrestling the blueprint of tactical orbments from the Epstein Foundation?"

"I did. The negotiations were some of the most difficult in my entire career." Alisa raised her eyebrow at the admission. "The Epstein Foundation is known for being extremely eager about any kind of innovation in the field of communications. Despite that, they didn't provide the entire functionality."

"No Quartz Synchronization."

"Correct, though some of the brightest minds at the RIT are doing their best to add this to Reinford's portfolio. Now if that's all..."

Alisa rolled her eyes. "In other words, progress is almost non-existent."

Another pause. "It seems the time you spent with your former boyfriend did you some good. While you have never hesitated to speak your mind, you do so now with keen insight. A piece of advice though: You may have finally learned to make others take you seriously, but during negotiations, this isn't always the best course of action. Sometimes it pays to make your opponent underestimate you instead of rousing their wariness from the get-go. Have a nice day."

The line disconnected.

"Love you, too", she murmured bitterly.

* * *

Rean fell face first into the mud. His muscles were screaming and his lungs burning. He didn't go this hard with his training even when learning under master Ka-Fai. He tried to prop himself up, his hands sinking into the soft ground. For a moment, he had the queasy impression of directly pressing against, well, shit.

The black-haired youth did his best to dismiss the feeling as he rose up again on shaking legs, his drenched combat fatigues rubbing uncomfortably against his clammy skin. He felt a shiver run down his spine. He dashed to the side, rolled forward and slid into the cover of an ancient oak, all in one motion, with the boom of a gun and subsequent bullet impact nipping close at his heel.

If this was what the Sara Special Exercise No.1 entailed, he shuddered to think of the subsequent numbers, given that strange second year's reaction. The second day after their entrance ceremony turned out to be rainy. It was a steady, cold downpour which would caution any sane individual to stay indoors as much as possible.

Unfortunately, Sara Valestein's training methods stood out for their utter lack of sanity. Whether this was reflective of the woman's state of mind was still up for debate, but Rean couldn't be bothered to brood over this profound question right now. He had a forest to traverse.

At least the woman was nice enough to adjust the difficulty of their morning exercise according to their physical fighting capabilities. Elliot and Emma were allowed to jog the 100 selge distance along the well-trodden forest trail, the rain being their only obstacle. Alisa, Jusis, Gaius and Machias were told to run through the untamed part of Trista Woods in a straight line, with the underbrush, the uneven ground, upturned roots, low hanging branches and even an occasional gorge included.

Laura, Fie and him got the special treatment though, for they had to conquer this natural obstacle course while the instructor was shooting at them - with stun bullets. The swordsman wiped his forehead with the back of his dirty hand, the moisture an uneasy mixture of sludge, sweat and rainwater. He looked at his ARCUS and swore. Only about four minutes left. And his orbment was of course completely devoid of any quartz. No casting or attunement allowed and just to add insult to injury, the so-called top melee fighters of Class VII had to work under a time-limit. He had already been hit once and the stun effect paralyzed him for about thirty seconds.

Rean wasn't sure how he got the dubious honor of being included alongside the other two formidable females. When the instructor wiped the floor with their whole class, he hardly put up a fight at all, in stark contrast to Fie and Laura who went almost toe-on-toe with Sara Valestein, which according to the second year Crow, was absolutely unprecedented since the fuchsia-haired woman started to teach.

He could read between the lines well enough to realize the fight at the exit of the Ancient Ruin was out of the ordinary. Especially compared to what Crow dubbed 'Sara's Special Introductory Curbstomb'. Fie was clearly some kind of protégé in regards to the instructor. She called her by her given name unabashedly and given their close-quarter exchange, they were both familiar with each others fighting style. Besides, their ferocity in combat was strikingly similar and belied their respective apathetic and flippant attitude. And Laura, well, she performed as expected from a follower of the most prestigious sword style in the Empire.

The black-haired swordsman breathed in deeply. He needed to approach the exercise differently. Until now, he simply let himself be herded from one cover into the next. His wariness of the instructor's bullets even made him crawl entire distances on all fours. It was fundamental cover traversal, just like he learned during boot at Baldurs.

It was too slow.

Right now, his biggest problem was that he had no clue where the shots came from. The woman hounded them incessantly, always taking care to vary the trajectories of her shots. He grimaced. Perhaps this was another reason to bully them during rainfall? It made detecting her more difficult, though she certainly didn't seem to have any difficulty tracking him and the others in return.

Whatever she wanted them to learn, the conventional approach used by conventional soldiers wasn't going to work, but the woman had never claimed to be military in the first place, had she? Rean sat down on the ground in the lotus position, both hands resting lightly on his knees. He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes and when he exhaled, his mind opened.

The cacophony of falling raindrops, their differing beat of drip-drop resounding in his mind. The distinct smell of moist wood, the astringency of blooming herbs. Every little sensation was meaningful, a window for his senses to come into contact with reality. Ki was suffusing his spiritual core, the energy far more potent than when he did the same meditating technique just before the entrance ceremony. When he circulated the boon he collected from the Dragon Stream, it was like trying to stem a deluge with a mere sponge.

Of course, keeping the mass of Ki away from his heart made everything even more difficult.

Burning coals congealed inside his extremities. The pain seemed to be a solid substance threatening to burst out at several places: Left hand, right ulna, right patella, the center of the musculus latissimus dorsi, left quadrizeps... he bit down a scream, forcing himself to continue his circulation. The surplus of Ki needed to disperse, before he crippled himself permanently.

Several agonizing seconds later, the solid pieces of coal started to shrink, the searing sensation becoming more bearable. It was the second time he overdid it with his Ki-channeling. Master Yun would be disappointed. When he extended his senses again, everything he perceived shifted into sharp relief. At least he was successful.

Rean started to run again.

An obstacle course. This is where he went wrong. Master Ka-Fai taught him to live with nature, to gradually lower the barrier between himself and the outer world. There were no obstacles. Only parts of reality his feeble mind classified as such.

He went out into the open, his footing as sure as if he was running on flat ground, jumping from log after log with consecutive leaps, raising his speed gradually, but surely. The imperceptible sound of boots on hardwood, a disturbance in the air so slight, it was merely the ghost of a touch. Rean careened to the right side, a bullet missing his left ear, the sound of hissing air warning him how close he dodged. Next moment, he grabbed a low hanging branch mid-jump with both hands and vaulted himself into the treeline.

He continued to run along the branches, the foliage serving to obscure his movements. As he dashed from tree to tree, his sense of balance reached new heights, for he kept his footing even on the slippery wood. Another shot rang out, but it missed its mark widely. Seconds later, he overtook Laura who was struggling below and after the third bullet whizzed impotently past him, it was smooth sailing the rest of the way

When Rean finally reached their gathering point, he didn't feel winded at all. All he did was running the way his body told him to, tracing the optimal path perceived by his heightened senses. He stopped, his body still brimming with Ki. The swordsman exhaled deeply, directing his breath outwards from the base of his stomach. At the same time, the dispersing energy flowed out through his extremities, sending tingling needles of pain along the way.

"The latter part of your run was pretty neat."

He focused his eyes and found himself gazing straight into green tinted yellow. Of course she would be the first to reach the goal. Rean opened his empty ARCUS.

"Two minutes late. Damn."

The silver-haired girl tilted her head. "Most cadets collapse when running Sara's gauntlet for the first time. And that's with predictable barriers inside the combat gym and without rain."

The black-haired youth arched an eyebrow. "Are they also getting shot at?"

"Depends on their combat experience." Her voice even more deadpan than her usual cadence.

He chuckled. "Good to know our treatment isn't that special then."

"You are strange. Most people complain about Sara's exercises."

"I don't hear you complaining."

"I'm used to it." She looked away, her bored expression plastered across her face like a mask.

"Which is pretty remarkable", Rean scratched his cheek. "Would you mind telling me how you got this strong? I mean, almost everybody explained their background inside the old schoolhouse, well, except you."

She tilted her head again. "Can't you do your guessing thing?"

"My what?"

"When you figure out stuff from little hints."

"Ah, deduction. Well, in your case, I can't really pin it down." He shrugged. "I'm not exactly all-knowing."

"Okay. So Crow is better with this deduction thing. Good to know."

"Wait, the second-year? He picked up on your background?"

"Ja. He figured it out immediately. My weapons gave me away."

"That would explain it." He shrugged. "I'm not knowledgeable with guns beyond the bare basics."

She hummed. "So it doesn't allow you to pull up insight from empty air, huh?"

Rean chuckled. "Not really." He stroked his chin. "Deduction is like climbing or scaling a cliff. It's about finding a chain of solid footholds which aren't too far away from each other, but which also leads towards the direction you want to go. Sometimes a foothold might look comfortable, but the following steps lead to a dead-end or away from the direction you wanted to go in the first place. Sometimes, the footholds circle around. If you lack knowledge or information though, the cliff ends up a sheer surface without any access."

"So these hints you use to form your... deductions are like mental footholds? And them not being too far away mean they kinda have to follow each other?"

"Exactly, they have to follow each other logically."

She nodded to herself. "Neat. Thanks for the explanation."

He scratched his cheek. "I didn't do much."

Her usual deadpan stare became piercing. "You really like to say that, don't you?"

Before he could answer, Laura also joined them. Rean had to admit, even with mud caking her limbs and soggy training clothes, she cut an impressive figure. Her expression on the other hand could only be described as outraged.

"I swear to the goddess, if she hits me with her infernal bullets one more time, I'm going to demand satisfaction!"

"Don't. You don't stand a chance against her alone."

The Arseid swordswoman sighed when she heard Fie's warning. "I'm aware she's a foe well beyond me." She reached for her ponytail to wring it out, but stopped midway as she realized with disgust how she was smearing mud all over her ultramarine locks. "But her Crafts are so unreasonably overwhelming and even now, I don't have the first clue what the nature of her abilities are."

"Lightning", Fie answered.

"Electricity", Rean spoke at the same time.

Laura watched them with confusion.

"I'm pretty sure Sara's abilities are based on lightning", the silver-haired girl insisted.

Rean scratched his head. "Well, you aren't wrong. Lightning is a form of electricity."

"Oh."

Laura folded her arms. "I recall having heard the term during class, but I don't remember details."

The black haired youth splayed his hands, palms open. "It's considered a fringe science. It was Emma who came up with the idea when we were discussing the last fight. Both of you were in the infirmary at the time. I only know electrical currents can disrupt a body's entire motor function, because our nerves use bio-electricity."

The blue-haired beauty nodded, eyes round with rapt attention. "I see. If electricity is akin to lightning it would also explain why metal is no protection. Never step out in armor during a thunderstorm." She nodded, the gesture full of gallantry. "Thank you for telling me this."

"There's no reason to thank me. I didn't...", he then caught Fie's sarcastically quirked eyebrow. He coughed slightly. "Right, you are welcome."

"Say, Rean, could you teach me more about this electricity stuff?", Fie asked.

"As I said, I don't know much about it. I think you should ask Emma. Or you could speak with our science instructor."

The petite girl tilted her head. "Good idea. Will do."

"And I'm right beside you", Laura added.

Rean felt his brows rising. "Are you so eager for payback?"

Both beauties turned their heads at the same time, their gazes burning with silent flames. "Yes!", they answered in an impressive display of synchronicity, worthy of any ARCUS Link.

* * *

After a shower and a change of clothes, Emma Millstein finally felt like a human being again.

She couldn't remember running a distance this long, ever. When she changed her shoes, she just knew there would be blisters on both her feet later.

Grandmother's so-called reconnaissance mission was slowly turning into a mess.

Become a student at Thors Academy, she said. It's a nice place where she could get a feel for the outside world, she said. It's the perfect opportunity to make some friends her own age, she said. Until now, Emma had never given much thought to the rumors that grandmother was an ancient existence. It was so easy to forget, given the form she chose to present herself, but this Thors institution didn't match her stories in the slightest. The ever present alertness and vigilance which hung around the place like sticky mist, the crackling energy of easily unleashed violence permeating the air. The moment she set foot onto its grounds, she felt like a foreign entity trespassing into an alien environment.

Emma wasn't a stranger to the spiritual sensation of violence or blood-lust. The Isthmia Great Forest was a breeding ground for monsters of all kind, ready to tear into any hapless wanderer with abandon. But the violence of monsters was instinctual and base, tied to simple behavioral cues. Not so the focused intent of human beings brimming with intelligence and cunning, ready to hurt and kill their fellow men and doing so of their own free will.

The principal's entrance speech had set off her alarms, especially the little tidbit about Thors changing from a military academy to an officer school. She was aware of both designations beforehand, but hadn't paid it much mind as both terms seemed mired in military terminology.

She knew better now, after being thrown into a lion's pit, fighting through it and getting beaten down at the end by the female instructor. It was a stark introduction to the Empire's vaunted martial culture which she had only read about in books until now.

The moment she chose to brave on though, becoming part of this experimental class, her situation had turned truly dire as the causality lines shifted. Since yesterday, the mist of alertness had turned into a cloying cloud of paranoia.

And it was all directed towards her.

The implications were clear: She was being watched - closely.

Emma cursed her own ignorance. Seeing causality lines was all well, but it didn't allow her to pierce the _intent _behind the chains of reason. She needed to ask the correct questions inside her mind, but right now, she lacked the experience to formulate them. She had read half a dozen books on military topics, but it was all theory. Even now, she lacked an understanding of the social dynamics, of how members of the military actually behaved, individually or in a group. The Witch could make a few educated guesses of course. Clearly, the beatdown at the end of the Ruin was akin to a baptism of fire, a brutal measure to test their resolve and weed out the unready.

They expected her to be cowed.

And then there was the Ruin itself, the goal of her _little_ expedition, but she didn't expect the Erebonian Military to have made inroads into the deeper functions of the Trial Ground. She couldn't read much from the place. It was a nexus of the Gnome Clan after all, but it was clear the researchers already possessed partial control of the Variable Space Feature, the unique property of Gnome buildings to morph its internal architectonic space according to the owners wants and needs.

She would love to have another look, though doing so would doom her mission and probably even endanger her live. Hidden guards patrolling the Old Schoolhouse, marksmen ready to put a bullet into any trespasser from a range which challenged even Witch Magic. It was frightening how far orbal technology had come, how the distance between magic and the empowerment of arts had shrunk.

Right now, she was stuck. The only option was to keep an eye on the place from a safe distance.

Emma hobbled into Class VII's classroom, choosing a seat at the front row, for she simply didn't want to go another step. A quick healing spell would solve the issue immediately, but she didn't dare use her powers as long as she was subject to such scrutiny. Moments later, both Instructor Valestein and Major Neithardt entered, though she watched in wonder how the military officer took a seat beside her like he was just another cadet.

Right. The dual instructor system. In a way, the man was as much of a student as any other member of Class VII. It was an interesting approach and Emma could certainly see the advantages.

"So, cadets, after this refreshing morning exercise, it's time we tackle the second major part of the Special Combat Class by yours truly." She winked. "It can be summarized as an introduction to the art of Monster Slaying."

Icy silence greeted her announcement.

"That does it", Jusis Albarea said, his cultured voice a mix between exasperation and frustration. "What kind of absurd curriculum is this? First we are herded out into open rain and forced to run straight through the wilderness like barbarians and now we are supposed to learn some anachronistic killing methods for a task which is perfectly handled by the military?"

The instructor rolled her eyes. "Perfectly handled by the military, huh? This is a good one." She bent slightly forward, both hands pressing against the lectern. "Well, I could explain the rationale behind the whole horseplay I planned, but in this case, I ask you to simply trust me. I'm teaching all of you so when you face me next time, I won't wipe the floor with this whole class by my lonesome - again. I've already taught here for a year and the stuffy military officers still haven't thrown me out." She threw the noble a gimlet eye. "Even the ones belonging to the Provincial Armies. This has to count for something, doesn't it?"

She saw Jusis bite down a remark. It was probably sarcastic in nature. "I guess so."

Instructor Sara beamed. "Good, good. Then let's start with the lesson. We are burning daylight!"

Monster taxonomy, morphology and behavior. Breeding cycles, mutation theory, tracking, ecology, anatomical and arts weaknesses. Traps and lures, gigantism phenomenon, Septium based contact poisons and caustic oils for weapon coatings. As the female instructor bulldozed through the topic, giving a short summary about each different aspect of monster slaying, Emma realized that calling this occupation an 'art' wasn't an exaggeration.

She took notes, though her action was mere pretense. As the Witch continued to listen, she got the impression that whoever created the discipline of Monster Slaying had it down to a science.

"Ah, our wunderkind has a question." The fuchsia-haired woman stopped her torrent of words. "Yes, Rean?"

The black-haired youth gave the instructor a half-lidded stare. "I don't think I qualify in any way, shape or form as a wunderkind." He cleared his throat and Emma could almost taste the conclusion he arrived at. "Well, instructor, you wouldn't happen to be a former Bracer, would you?"

Another pause, followed by Sara Valestein gesticulating wildly, her expression... pouty? "Could you please stop figuring everything out left and right? I totally wanted to play the role of the mysterious and mature teacher and now you've ruined it."

What a peculiar reaction. Given how the rest of the class looked at her as if she just grew a second head, it was probably another of the woman's many quirks on display. Somehow, Emma couldn't shake the impression that grandmother would get along swimmingly with the eccentric instructor. Major Neithardt simply palmed his face. "I have no words", the military officer murmured, eyes fixed towards the ceiling as if in desperate prayer.

"Another point for you, Schwarzer", Jusis noted with cold amusement. "And it certainly explains a few things. Care to enlighten us how you deduced this one?"

Rean shrugged. "There wasn't much to deduce. I just happen to know details about the Bracer Guild's inception history from my electives."

"I see", Major Neithardt mused. "So they also originated from Monster Slayer Guilds like some of today's Jaeger Corps?"

"Exactly. Monster Slayer Guilds before the Orbal Revolution came in roughly two flavors: The guilds intent on hunting down the biggest and most dangerous specimens, partly for the Sepith and partly to earn glory. Sometimes their actions helped the populace, sometimes it made things worse. Then there were the guilds whose credo was maintaining the balance between the populations of monsters, animals and humans. It was a collaboration of those guilds to which the late Professor Epstein reached out with a business proposal."

"Is this why Bracers have exclusive access to Epstein made tactical orbments?", Machias asked.

Rean nodded, taking charge of the discussion as if he was the one teaching. "Yeah, but this is just the tip of the iceberg. Professor Epstein anticipated several consequences of the technological shift, among them that a nation's military equipped with orbal weaponry could take care of most of their monster problems themselves."

Laura's face lit up. "Monster Slaying was a doomed profession in the long run."

"Yes. So in exchange for making civilians their top priority, Professor Epstein directed the benign Monster Slayer Guilds to the one avenue where their skills and experience would stay priceless even after Orbal Technology became a mainstay: Clearing out Septium Mines."

Jusis nodded, expression intrigued. "In wake of the Revolution, Septium mines became strategic epicenters for every nation. They are also the one place which was sure to attract strong monsters, but doesn't tolerate the usage of heavy weaponry or explosives."

The rest of the class took some moments to digest this particular piece of information.

The black-haired youth stroked his chin. "Today, the Bracer Guild has contracts with most owners of Septium Mines all across Zemuria. Of course, those owners happen to be governments most of the time. In exchange for clearing out monsters periodically, they get a small percentage of the mine's revenue. It adds up to quite a sum."

Elliot's mouth was hanging open. "No kidding. I always wondered how the Guild could afford to help every civilians in need, no matter rich or poor."

Machias pushed up his glasses. "The source of the guild's income is far more extravagant than I could have imagined. In a way they control the flow of the most critical resource powering today's technological progress." He paused. "It would also explain why the Guild's political influence in the Empire has always been considered weak, compared to other nations. We don't have any Septium Mines inside our territory, well, until recently at least."

"Thank you for this enlightening discussion, Cadet Schwarzer", Major Neithardt spoke up. "I might have underestimated history as a subject." He suddenly grimaced. "Though I would welcome it, if you don't relay these words to instructor Thomas, First Lieutenant Valestein."

The fuchsia-haired woman wore a teasing smirk. "Major, is this the correct way to beg, rubbing that military title in my face?"

The straight-laced officer became flustered. "This wasn't my intent. Really!"

"I have my first lesson with Instructor Thomas tomorrow", Rean piped up. "Should I be worried?"

"Yes!", both instructors answered in unison, their dry voices a surprising match.

Emma tuned out the ensuing squabble. She could have participated in the discussion about the Bracer Guild's history. Her trove of book-knowledge and grasp on causality lines provided her most of the answers the rest of Class VII came up with, but she couldn't help but feel like she was cheating. The Witch looked at the other bespectacled cadet. The moment their class was formed, Machias Regnitz was quick to confront her with their entrance test results. The green haired youth seemed to take it as a personal insult that she had managed to score above him. Or was he simply competitive? Emma wasn't sure either way, but when he told her how he was going to give his best to surpass her top score, all she could think about was the futility of his future hard work.

And she was forbidden to tell him.

Increased speed of thought, intuitive understanding of causation, faster reading speed, improved memory retention. They were mere side-effects of her Hexen-Training, but when it came to learning facts, she was in a league of her own, her connection to her Inner Mirage a constant boost to her cognizance. She sighed. Perhaps next time, she should make some deliberate mistakes during an exam. As long as her scores were high enough to ensure her stay at Thors, there was no need to shoot for the maximum.

_But all the book-knowledge in the world won't allow you to perceive the true nature of things._

Vita's word echoed inside her, that striking voice imprinting on her mind without fail. Emotions welled up as she thought about the woman who was her sister in all but blood. The woman's teasing smile, her gentle ridicule to spur Emma into action, to coax her out of the tome filled study and make her spread her wings.

_There's a point where you need to abandon your books, Emma. Reading only allows you to learn how other people think. It won't teach you to think for yourself. _

Now, more than ever, she was unsure how to proceed. Unlike Vita, who was sure to pave her own road through life, she flailed and tumbled like a newborn chick. Still, she had a duty and a desire to fulfill. Therefore, she needed to take matters into her own hands. A Witch's Wisdom could pierce the fog of uncertainty if utilized correctly, but it couldn't give her revelations from nothing. She needed at least a cursory understanding of the subject at hand, something she lacked when it came to practical military matters.

Perhaps patience was key. Further lessons at Thors could close her gap in knowledge in time for her to formulate a plan for the Gnome Ruin - or she could speed up the process by asking her fellow cadets. Most of them seemed pretty comfortable with the curriculum and all of them seemed very smart in their own way. Given that they didn't grew up in isolation like her, there was a lot she could learn.

So in the end, the solution was to make friends like grandmother suggested? Emma felt her anxiety growing, but perhaps just for once, she should simply rush ahead?

Things couldn't go more wrong, right?

* * *

Rean stood in front of the massive oak door, his gaze glued to the golden placard framed by horned lions. Finding Towa on campus proved to be exceedingly easy. A little questioning revealed her to be the cadet chairwoman of Thors.

He knew enough about the persisting dominance of the Noble class to understand that Towa could only achieve such a position under extraordinary circumstances. Student council president at Baldurs was one thing, but this was pretty much a fast-track to qualify as a third year at Thors. And after that? The Imperial General Staff Office. Rean knew she was an amazing person, but did she really want to make a lasting career in the military, what with her attitude towards war? After her tenure at Baldurs she could've gotten any job she wanted in the civilian sector. Her credentials, referrals and marks were completely through the roof, but she instead opted to enter a place teeming with legalized violence.

Him becoming an obedient little soldier was making the best out of his condition, a way to curb and channel his urges towards a profession he could barely accept on moral grounds. But for Towa the whole world was an oyster.

So why did she attend Thors and just how much had this place changed her?

He braced himself mentally and knocked, his body tensed like a bow. Seconds later, when no answer was forthcoming, he literally felt himself deflate.

"Excuse me." He entered.

The committee room was richly furnished. Earthly colors dominated the interior along with a surprising amount of decorative plants. Rean saw three work desks, but only one of them was piled with several stacks of documents. He soon found himself confronted with a very familiar sight.

Some things never changed, huh?

Towa Herschel was sleeping, her arms resting on the desk with her head proffered above. Rean felt the nostalgia welling up inside him. He smiled. For a moment, he considered simply watching her sleep. She looked so peaceful and there was something almost magical in the air. On the other hand, she did tell him several times that it was totally inappropriate to stare at a lady while she was at her most vulnerable.

The black haired swordsman extended his index finger and poked against her cheek. He felt smooth skin, soft to the touch like velvet or silk. Looking at her, she didn't seem to have aged a single day. Beside the more severe clothes, her appearance was just as youthful as he remembered, as if she was impervious to the machinations of time.

"Hauu." She stirred. Then, slowly, she straightened herself, her gaze groggy and disoriented from being waked. "Oh Rean, what are you doing in my room? Is there an emergency meeting?"

"If there is, I'm not in a position to tell you, president Towa", he delivered with an utterly straight face.

"But you are always on top of... wait." She looked around herself, her almond eyes for once as big as saucers. "This is the cadet committee." Then her tiny shoulders sank. "Oh no, I fell asleep again." Her head whipped around in an instant, her eyes blazing if not for the cute pout. Was she wearing lip gloss?

"This is the first time in months I fall asleep in my office and it just so happens that you catch me exactly then", she spoke in a voice full of adorable indignation. "Are you doing this on purpose, Rean?"

Their stare-down continued for several seconds.

Rean felt the corner of his mouth twitch. Towa's mouth twitched back. Seconds later, they broke out into laughter and giggles. All tension and reservation he harbored in his heart vanished like morning mist in the sunlight. When he finally found it in himself to breathe properly again, he felt himself tackled by a human shaped missile, her willowy form pressing against his with softness and warmth.

He hugged her back, his hand gliding through her thick hair. The smell of ink and paper tickled his nostrils, as well as the fragrance of daffodil.

"It's good to see you again, Towa", he murmured.

"It's good to see you too, Rean."

They separated. "You've grown again, haven't you? This is so unfair."

He scratched his head. "I guess I just got lucky."

She smiled. "Oh well. How about I make us some tea?"

"I would be honored."

She glowered at him in mock-indignation again. "Drop the formalities, will you? We are way past them."

Rean scratched his cheek and sat down. "You look like Thors life is doing you good."

"Oh?" She answered slyly. "I think what you really intend to say is that you are glad I didn't change at all."

"How?" He breathed out.

She wagged her index finger. "You aren't the only one with a discerning eye. Besides, once someone gets to know you, you are quite predictable." She continued to prepare the tea. "Of course, your impression isn't correct. This place did change me. Perhaps it's true what older people use to say - that the only constant in life is change."

"You are amazing as always, president Towa." Rean chuckled."Though I think I should use your new title instead?"

"Please don't. It's such a mouthful. Just call me Towa." She tilted her head and touched her right cheek with her gloved hand. "It's a shame really. I'll miss the way you call me president."

Soon enough, both of them were sitting with a hot cup of eastern green tea in hand, enjoying each others soothing presence. "You know, I'm pretty surprised nobody has interrupted us yet. My office usually enjoys a constant stream of visitors."

Rean sipped the tea, which was brewed to perfection. "At this time of the day?" He looked towards the darkness outside.

"I'm in pretty high demand, for better or worse. You catching me asleep is quite a lucky break for me. There are plenty of cadets on campus who would use my show of weakness against me."

He froze. "I see. Things have indeed changed." Back in Baldurs, the student body loved her to bits and nobody would look down on her for taking a nap on occasion. The black-haired swordsman hesitated, but it was clear she was inviting him to ask. He exhaled. "Why are you doing all this to yourself, Towa? Attending this place. You detest war. No, you loathe it."

She smiled wistfully. "I still do. With all my heart. But the military isn't war itself, is it?"

"Perhaps. But it's a crucial part."

Towa nodded. She then put her cup down. "Do you still remember Minister Rorschach's entrance speech yesterday?"

He thought back to the iron lady and her harsh alto. "A continuation of politics, you mean?"

"Yes, though I don't fully agree with her words. It's not just politics - the economy, the culture, education, nearly every deeper aspect of Erebonian society is geared towards war. I could become a humble shopkeeper and distance myself from the reality of this country, but I thought it would be a waste."

"So you instead decided to go the opposite direction?"

Towa took a long sip. "This country needs internal reforms, but most of them aren't even debated in Heimdallr or thought of in popular consciousness, what with the Social Class issue dominating the entire political discourse. But I'm just a commoner, so my options to severely impact politics is limited, especially because I don't agree with either the Noble Faction or the Reformists."

Rean had difficulty keeping his mouth closed. "Your military career is merely a short-cut."

She smiled mischievously. "We do have a precedent of a commoner reaching the highest political office this country has to offer. Though it would be more correct to say that the Emperor created the office of High Chancellor from scratch."

He chuckled again. "I can't imagine a person more different from Chancellor Osborne than you, Towa. I understand too little about this country to have a firm opinion on how it should be run, but if you were to become this nation's top politician, I feel we would all be better for it."

"Thanks Rean. That's very sweet of you."

"But it's also a pretty lofty goal."

"Don't you want to say unrealistic?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "You don't need me to state the obvious."

"True. But I want to aim as high as possible and see where it takes me."

Rean finished his tea. He then faced her squarely. "How can I help?"

Towa looked torn. "This is only your second day. You should get used to the Thors curriculum before committing to anything."

He shook his head. "I refuse. I think I could examine the campus all year long or do introspection until I drop, but I still won't find a goal more worthy than yours. Let me help ease your burden. I know I can only do little, but every bit helps, doesn't it?"

She smiled fondly. "Still the same. Oh well, you can help me, but I have a condition."

"I'm listening."

"Stop underselling yourself. What you do isn't merely a little. Your help is invaluable. As long as you understand this, we shall have an agreement."

First there was Elise, who always told him to value himself more. Then there was Fie's subtle quip and now Towa, all of them telling him the same thing in their unique way. He sighed mentally. Perhaps it was time to take their message to heart for once?

"Deal!"

Towa nodded and finished the rest of her tea in a hurry. She then went to her overloaded desk. After a little rummaging she took out four envelopes. "Are you still keeping in touch with other Baldurs alumni?"

"Yeah, I do." He frowned. "You want me to deliver these letters?"

"Yes. They are addressed to Kenneth Lakelord, Rex Galino, Loggins Irving and Lambert Mach."

"The captains of the fishing, photography, fencing and riding clubs at Baldurs."

"They are clubs that made you a honorary member. Well, I plan to create a network of alumni from all the military academies across Erebonia, but I think I can get more people to commit themselves if my idea is carried and referred by someone they trust."

"They are all Baldurs alumni. I think they trust you all right."

"But it lacks a personal touch, doesn't it?"

Rean stroked his chin. "So what should I do? Deliver them personally?"

"If possible. But you can also send these letters with an introductory letter from yourself. Basically a letter with another letter inside. Or call them with your ARCUS beforehand. Or use a messaging system which utilizes the Orbal Net."

"Okay. And what is the purpose behind this alumni network?"

She told him.

It was the first time in a long while that he was left completely slack-jawed.


	7. Thors Moments I

****Thors Officer School, ToCS1 Outside the Fairy Tale****

****A/N: A happy new year to you all! This one took far too long. I don't really have an excuse except binging Cold Steel 3 and being overwhelmed by the deluge of additional lore. And that's with me already being spoiled by the big plot points beforehand.  
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****And while we are talking about lore - Cold Steel 3 established a canon unit for one metric kilogram, which is called curim. As such, nalim (which is the one I made up) will be substituted retrospectively and in the future. I still need a metric unit for gram though, so nalim will be that until canon contradicts me again. ****

****Due to a certain fight scene in the chapter, I put up another author note at the end about eastern terms and martial arts concepts. For those who are interested, feel free to read it.  
****

****And a big thank you to all readers old and new and those who reviewed, followed and favorited the fic. ****

**Apex85: Sorry for not answering your question about the Reinford - Krupp similarities. I got sidetracked researching the political system of the Holy Roman Empire - also something you brought to my attention - which will play a crucial role in the upcoming Field Study. I really appreciate your input and your historical viewpoint really helps in fleshing out even more Erebonian lore. **

**omegazero2718: A special thanks to you, because your comment about Black Angler Rean and Crow loving fish inspired a certain scene in this chapter. **

**Leonidas701: Thank you for pointing out that the summary wasn't very engaging. As the author, I often don't see the forest for the trees, but I hope the new one is at least a little better. **

* * *

**Chapter 7 – Thors Moments I**

Jusis balled his fists.

Enemy troops were spilling in on his vulnerable flank and the terrain completely favored his opponents. Visibility was atrocious, the fog of war hanging atop the battlefield like a specter of death. While his instincts and pride screamed at him for even considering a tactical retreat, cold logic dictated this distasteful option to be the most rational one. The hilly landscape was a textbook example for artillery deployment, something his foe was fielding according to his scouting reports. And for each second he hesitated in his command, the noose around the army's neck was drawn tighter.

"I have an idea." Gaius muttered.

The Albarea heir arched an expectant eyebrow.

The Nord warrior pointed at a rocky outcrop, the weakest part of the natural barrier surrounding their cavalry division. "Let's retreat from there."

"You are aware this opening is far too narrow for our riders?"

Gaius gave him a guileless look. "Well, we could use our Arts corps to widen it. They are mostly equipped with earth arts."

This was actually a pretty good idea. Except... "Do you think this simulator can properly execute terrain manipulation mid-battle?"

The brown skinned youth shrugged. "There's nothing to lose by trying. Escaping through where we came from will only see our division slaughtered."

Jusis fingers were already flitting across the keyboard, eager to input the new order. Seconds later Amberl colored diamonds appeared on screen, a depiction of earth arts being cast.

"It worked!" He couldn't quite keep the enthusiasm out of his voice.

His XO smiled. "Let's retreat in good order."

"Not so fast. Knowing our opponents, they'll never anticipate the maneuver we just performed. And considering the location our cavalry is breaking out of, we have a chance to flip the entire situation around."

"You want to destroy the artillery encampments?"

Jusis allowed himself to grin nastily. "Why waste perfectly good weapons? There are also officers with artillery specialization among our troops."

The Nord warrior's eyes widened. "A very bold strategy." He smiled warmly. "Except, does the simulator offer such a function?"

"Nothing to lose by trying," he echoed his partner's word back.

The rest of the mock battle went completely in their favor. The enemy CO simply went along with the usual playbook, bombarding the encirclement while concentrating most of their defensive units at the only exit - that is until Jusis' troops created another one. Soon enough their high mobility troops reached the artillery only to find out that, yes, the simulator indeed allowed the commandeering of enemy weapons.

"This is going almost too smoothly," Gaius mused. "Are we going to target the rest of the enemy artillery?"

"Yes. Bombard them into oblivion. Commandeering more would stretch our troops too thin."

The next few minutes saw the systematic destruction of their enemy's heavy war-gear. It was only then that their opponents realized something was wrong, but it was already too late then. Moments later their team received an offer for surrender.

The light in the classroom switched on.

"A good showing cadets!" Major Neithardt boomed. "Worzel, Albarea, your performance was impressive, but don't let it go to your heads." He let his gaze wander among the whole of Class VII until they stopped at the enemy team consisting of Regnitz and Craig. "Let this be a lesson: A well thought-out plan, even favorable terrain conditions - all can be turned against you. A battlefield is a dynamic place where even small factors can make or break a strategy." He folded his arms. "Any suggestions on how Cadet Regnitz and Craig could have performed better?"

"With all due respect, Sir," the bespectacled loudmouth groused, "couldn't we have gotten a list of what this simulator actually allows? How should we know that it's possible to change the terrain with arts or that artillery could be captured and used against ourselves?"

Major Neithardt shook his head. "Exactly my point, Cadet Regnitz. You couldn't know. In fact, nobody here at Thors know the exact limits of this simulator yet, or what's impossible to do. Like many other war games, which we will successively introduce, we at Thors inject a portion of randomness and uncertainty into our simulations, lest we all become victim to the ludic fallacy."

"The ludic fallacy, instructor?" Emma queried.

The Imperial Officer began to pace. "The most common definition calls it the misuse of a game to model real-life situations. A typical case of mistaking the map for the territory. To make a long story short: Learning military strategy on a metaphorical chessboard, where all rules are known and agreed upon by both sides, runs the risk of creating an illusion of competence and certainty. Especially inside the mind of those who excel at these kind of games."

Machias visibly flinched.

"In reality, warfare is quite unlike chess due to asymmetries in troop strength, intelligence as well as weapons and technology utilized. There's of course also the scenario of _more_ than just two sides battling each other. As for how the defeated team could have done better, no, how each and every one of you could do better, the answer is to always prepare contingencies."

The school gong ushered the end of the lesson.

"And that's that." Major Neithardt went into parade rest, his gaze the likeness of a mighty spear thrust. "I suggest you all look up the chapters about orbal communication, jamming and encryption schemes. During the next war game, all team mates will be split up and given control over their own terminals and troops. Inter-team coordination will be paramount to success, especially because communication channels between friendlies can and should be sabotaged. Cadets, dismissed."

Jusis breathed out a sign of relief. His mind felt so sluggish that he couldn't even muster up enough energy to needle Regnitz about his victory. One week into the school year and he was mentally and physically exhausted. It was a far cry from Lokis. While also challenging, he could still maintain a semblance of effortlessness during his two year attendance at the military academy.

But here at Thors, even his very best was barely enough.

The others were already leaving the computer science room, but Gaius was still waiting for him. Seems like he wanted to chat. "I already told you that I'm not here to make friends." The Albarea heir restated.

The Nord Warrior smiled his disarming smile. "You did. But as I told you last time, I don't think you really mean it."

Jusis rose from his seat and began to walk beside his classmate. A tacit gesture of acceptance. To be honest, beside Laura, whom he already knew and Schwarzer who intrigued him a little, Gaius Worzel was by far the most palatable member in Class VII. Given his foreigner status, it was almost certain he didn't belong to the gaggle of sycophants which he had to suffer on a daily basis back at Lokis. As a native Nord denizen, there was also his no doubt profound understanding of horses.

Not that he was willing to overly express his interest...yet.

The next course was another exclusive for Class VII, namely their first class on Combat-Link usage with Instructor Valestein. According to what Rufus told him about his own Thors attendance, Jusis expected far more lessons shared between different classes, given that Thors structured its education more like an university than a school, but so far it seemed as if the higher-ups were intent on keeping the so called 'red jackets' cooped together. They even had their own exclusive dorm located at an isolated corner at campus, though the building was slightly ramshackle.

Bah, no matter. It kept the riffraff at bay and while he didn't particularly like his classmates, almost none of them had done anything to make him dislike them either. There was that irritant Regnitz of course, but if anything he had to commend the guy on his straightforwardness. His unvarnished and at times even childish antipathy, while lacking in dignity, was at least _honest_.

"A mira for your thoughts?"

Jusis turned to the Nord denizen. "Just musing about our curriculum. This officer school seems intent on throwing one nasty surprise after the other."

"You mean the surprise exams?"

"That too. Thors is taking their motto of treating the world as a constant battlefield a little too seriously."

Gaius shrugged. "To be honest, I don't see anything wrong with it. Life as a nomad is a constant series of unexpected trials and challenges. Nature doesn't keep a fixed schedule, though there's something of a rhythm."

"I guess that makes you uniquely fit for this place. But I can already picture certain members of our class despairing over unannounced exams that occur frequently in every subject. Most educational institutions drill the students to reach peak performance on a fixed exam date."

"Sounds artificial. The trappings of civilization?"

Jusis chuckled mirthlessly. "Too true." And the pinnacle of civilizational trappings? The life of a high noble.

Out of some unfathomable reason, their lesson with Instructor Valestein wasn't going to be conducted in the Gymnasium but instead the Auditorium. They entered the massive hall, its ground polished to a shine that could rival the Albarea mansion. Jusis looked at the ceiling and saw a gigantic fresco depicting Thors' founder Dreichels in all his splendor, flanked by his most trusted confidantes Saint Sandlot and Roland Vander, a drawing utilizing extreme contrasts of light and darkness.

It was chiascuro, Rokkoko style. As an Erebonian noble he had been taught to evaluate pieces of art and while he didn't notice the fresco during the entrance ceremony, his mind too preoccupied with the people around him, it was indeed a marvelous piece of work. Consequently, he felt a bad premonition setting in the pit of his stomach, looking at the irreverent grin adorning the face of Class VII's lead instructor. If anyone could spoil the dignity of a place like this, it would be her.

"Heelloo kids," the woman greeted them in her gratingly enthusiastic voice. "Nice of you all to come to our very first Combat Link lesson. Some of you no doubt know what's to come, because I got to put you through the wringer during preparatory lessons last week. The others who didn't need those lessons," and here she looked each of the nobles plus Alisa Reinford in the eye, "well, you are in for a little surprise: Ballroom dancing!"

Jusis arched his eyebrows. He was no doubt proficient on the dance floor, a skill taught to every self-respecting noble before they hit the age of sixteen and it certainly made the Auditorium the correct choice of location, but it escaped him how this activity related to combat exactly.

"Any questions?"

Before he had time to air any misgivings, the irritating woman already rushed on with her program. Where was Major Neithardt when you needed him?

"Okay kids, each of you get yourself a partner please!"

It was most surprising how quickly his classmates sought each other out. Gaius invited the Reinford Heiress with a graceful bow and an outstretched hand, his posture as solid as rock. Fie literally teleported in front of Schwarzer and wordlessly pointed at him with her outstretched finger. Craig asked Laura with quite a noticeable blush. As for Regnitz and Millstein? They tried to invite each other at the same time, resulting in both of them apologizing for seemingly preempting the other and falling into an almost comical loop of apologizing for the apology.

"And that leaves Mr Stand-offish." Jusis saw Instructor Valestein swaggering towards him, her merry mood only serving to worsen the premonition he felt. He sighed.

"So you are to serve as my partner, instructor?"

"What can you do? Class VII has an uneven number of cadets. Fortunately, little old me is here to even things out." She winked. The woman then turned to the direction of the balustrade. "Hey George, everything set up?"

"Just say the word," a rough but friendly voice sounded from above.

"All pairs, take your position just like I taught you. Gentlemen, you are to put your right hands on the small of the back. Waist height. Not deeper, even if it's tempting."

Jusis suppressed rolling his eyes, but then the woman was already upon him, her arms opening up to accept the dancer's embrace. He drew her nearer, trying to set themselves into a comfortable position like he did many times before, but just as he felt the contact between their arms to be adequate, his pectorals encountered noticeable resistance. Were these...?

The Albarea scion used his superior willpower to prevent himself from looking down, lest he committed a serious faux-pas. He also opened up their embrace a bit. A slightly stiff posture was an acceptable sacrifice and for the life of him, he couldn't remember ever facing such a problem with a dance partner before. But then again, most of the girls with whom he shared the dance floor were fresh out of their social debut, still on the cusp of womanhood and what in Aidios' name was he even thinking about?

"Oooh, are you blushing? So you do have a cute side."

Jusis wasn't going to honor the woman's tripe with a reply. "Shouldn't we get on with the program, instructor?"

The fuchsia haired woman snapped her fingers as answer. Music filled the hall shortly after, though he was aware even beforehand that it was going to be a waltz, what with the way Valestein craned her neck sideways, the typical waltz posture required by the lady.

The dance turned out to be a surprising pleasant affair. The instructor performed the steps and figures with elegance and while the clothes she wore didn't really fit the occasion, what with the military coat carelessly draped over her shoulders, her skills on the dance floor were without question. As the man he was of course taking the leading role, but when the first slow piece ended, a generic minuet, it was followed by a string scherzo. While he initially feared that he wouldn't be able to keep up his leading with the higher tempo instructor Valestein still executed all the figures he envisioned as if she was reading his mind.

So that was the so called Combat Link? Seemed more like a semi-telepathic connection.

The second, much quicker waltz ended without flaw and Jusis gave the customary bow which she answered with a curtsy of all things. It looked completely out of character on a woman like her, but Jusis wasn't going to complain that she was observing tradition.

The music stopped and Instructor Valestein addressed the whole class again: "So kids, this was a good warm-up. I hope each of you got a feeling for your partner, because now it's time to mix things up a bit. Let's test out if all of you really have a Combat Link active. Role change! The ladies are going to dance the men's steps and vice versa."

Jusis palmed his face. And here the other shoe finally dropped. Elliot Craig raised his hand hesitantly. "Um, instructor, you and Major Neithardt never taught us, well, the opposite gender's steps. I would like to say that the movements are simply mirrored, but the ladies' figures are so much more complicated."

The fuchsia haired woman just nodded enthusiastically in the face of Craig's perfectly justified reservation. "That's exactly the point. The trick is to utilize the ARCUS-Link and perform the moves of your partner while at the same time thinking of your original moveset."

"So we are basically leading each other at the same time through the ARCUS?" Rean stated.

"You got it!"

The Albarea noble folded his arms, his voice icy. "Are we seriously going to continue this travesty? You expect Erebonian _men_ to twirl, traipse and pirouette around as if we were wearing a skirt? There's a reason each gender have their respective roles in the ballroom."

"While I'm loath to agree with him, I also feel uncomfortable doing this." So Regnitz was on his side for once.

"Oh don't be such spoilsports. There's no reason to be embarrassed or anything." Their devil instructor wore a cocky grin. "Or what? Feeling emasculated doing some little lady figures?" She looked at the female members of Class VII. "So girls, what do you think?"

Getting one look at the Reinford heiress' expression told him that she wasn't going to support his stance. "I'm all in agreement. I don't see any reason why women shouldn't be allowed to lead." She gave him a quick glare.

Wait. That wasn't what he was implying.

Laura was shifting uncomfortably. "Instructor. I must admit that I already know how to perform the men's steps."

The rest of the class all swiveled their attention towards her. The ladies seemed especially intrigued and thinking about it, Jusis remembered the one occasion he saw Laura during a social gathering and back then, young noblewomen flocked to her.

"Oooh, a real heartthrob, aren't you?" The fuchsia haired woman pressed both her hands palm to palm. "As far as I see besides these two prudes, the rest of you don't have much of a problem with the exercise. Don't forget kids, this isn't really a dancing class. We're using the activity to ease you up on the ARCUS Links. Now get to it! Chop-chop."

Jusis stretched out his arm in what he hoped was an authoritative gesture, but before he could get another word in edgewise, the cursed instructor was already upon him. "Come on, Cadet Albarea. It's time to show the world how well you do with twirls and pirouettes."

Swapping the move set to that of the opposite sex made the exercise much harder. There were lots of stumbles and stepped upon toes, him included, but apparently Valestein wasn't satisfied with the amount of humiliation she already inflicted.

"What's the matter class? It's lame to just do the basic steps. Get these Combat Links working! I want to see some fancy moves from the guys."

The woman was certainly making him work. While the ARCUS connection was just a fleeting sensation beforehand, the link became much more keener as he was bombarded with ghostly commands, movement patterns he wasn't aware of which his body followed with trouble. At some point, he caught himself swaying his hips a little stronger than he would normally do. The devil instructor saw it though all it elicited was a teasing grin.

Some excruciating minutes later, the song finally finished playing and he was released from the cruel lead. Again, Valestein went to the middle of their group. "Well, there's still room for improvement here. Does anybody feel like they have problems with their Combat-Link connection? No one? Good." She folded her arms. "Now listen: I'll admit this exercise is difficult and once everybody has committed the new movements to muscle memory, you could technically perform well without relying on your ARCUS. But don't fear - I have a niiice collection of other dance styles to teach you once that happens. And given that they are popular in Calvard, I doubt anyone here knows them." She glanced at Laura.

"I wasn't aware Calvardians have their own versions of ballroom dances," Alisa mused.

"Oh they do, though I wouldn't exactly say those dances are fit for the ballroom." The devil instructor winked.

Rean scratched his head. "What exactly are you going to teach us, instructor?"

"Knowing her, it's probably something unsavory," Machias groused.

"It's going to be embarrassing," Fie quipped.

"I for one am eager to learn these. Nord people don't really have this elaborate tradition of dances made exclusively for one pair of man and woman."

"But you do have your own dance culture, don't you?" Elliot asked.

Gaius chuckled. "Yes, but it always involve big groups of people. My dad once...told me about mating dances which are just between two persons, but these are never performed in public."

"M-mating dances?" Emma spluttered.

The Nord denizen blinked guilelessly. "Looking at body language and placement, it's pretty clear what we are doing right now qualifies. Though I guess here in Erebonia it's seen more as a means of courtship, right?"

Jusis sighed. "Courtship is exactly what it is, Gaius. Please don't let yourself be caught calling the waltz a 'mating dance' in polite company. The average noble will take heavy offense at this."

"He's correct though", Rean interjected. "Historically a lot of popular ballroom dances originated during the middle ages, mostly in the area which is the Lamarre Province today. They were performed by commoners and popularized in red-light districts. It was only after the routines were... sanitized that the nobles adapted them for their own use."

"This piece of information I could have done without." Laura glared at Schwarzer, while Emma and Alisa were blushing.

"Okay kids. As funny as the whole conversation is, we aren't here to chit-chat. Get back to your partners and continue the exercise. We're burning daylight."

* * *

Meikyo Shisui. The mind be as clear as a polished mirror. The heart as peaceful as still water. Rean repeated the mantra again and again, but the lure which danced restlessly on the lake's surface exposed his true inner state.

Nothing like fishing to show just how far he had to go as a swordsman.

The barrel only carried two Kasuagins after a whole hour of trying. Usually he would simply abort the activity and try again when he was in a more appropriate state of mind. More often than not fishing was simply a way for him to relax and meditate, the catches merely a nice bonus.

Just not today. Despite some initial protest from Towa he convinced her to give him requests to do around campus. Just like at Baldurs she had maintained her open-door policy including the offer to help everyone in need. And just like before the requests dealt with problems of an unconventional nature that didn't neatly fit into the institution's purview. Like right now, for the owner of restaurant Kirsche needed at least 3 curim of fresh white fish to develop a new recipe.

He still had afternoon courses and then there was a certain appointment which was the main cause of his anxiety. Different than Baldurs, Thors didn't have Free Days. As Major Neithardt told them Free Days at the military academies were a way to teach students independence and time management, but still within a fixed structure. Now that they were part of Thors, the faculty expected them to have internalized this sense of independence. As such, besides obligatory courses, randomly occurring exams and the field studies, they were free to utilize the rest of their time as they saw fit.

They still had to write reports on what exactly they were doing with their free time. The major also made it clear that failing to do something productive or faking their reports would be met with harsh consequences.

Rean felt the impatience chewing on him and again, a tremble went through the line to the lure, scaring away the fish. He sighed and reeled in the empty line. While there were still about three hours until the afternoon seminars, he hadn't eaten lunch yet. And before that he had a duel to fight.

The black-haired youth took out his cadet notebook and pulled out the challenge letter.

_Hello Rean Schwarzer, _

_I'm not much for flowery words, so I'll get straight to the point: I challenge you to a duel on the 15th of March 1:30 p.m. I've reserved sparring hall three for half an hour. Don't be late and bring your best game - and a second, if you want. _

_Angelica Rogner. _

He fought his fair share of duels at his former school. Being a military academy located in Roer there were a couple of noble families who still had recollections about the Schwarzer name despite his dad's self-imposed isolation already lasting five years back then. As such, there was a lot of friction with his noble classmates during the first months as well as the occasional duel.

It wasn't all bad though. He quickly discovered that these sanctioned fights were a good conduit to lessen the encroaching darkness within him. Rean pressed a hand against his heart. In the furthest recesses of his mind he likened that power of his to a rabid never-tiring attack dog, constantly straining against the chains that held it in place. Over the years after that incidence with Elise, he had learned to listen to the struggle of the animal as well as how it reacted to his actions.

Meditation, the striving for a calm mind was a good measure to strengthen the metaphorical chains, his self-control that kept the infernal dog at bay. But it was during his training with master when he came to the conclusion that this wasn't a long-term solution. Constant vigilance was mentally draining. No matter the degree of one's self-control no human being could maintain it twenty four-seven.

In this sense he probably realized more than his fellow classmates the sheer difficulty, perhaps even cruelty of Thors' second motto: Treat the world as if it's a constant battlefield.

A fight though, an occasion to indulge in physical brutality, it was like throwing the dog a bone. Despite its crazed nature food was food and channeling his killing intent during a duel with safety measures in place calmed the beast down, which in turn gave him blessed periods of time to lessen his death-grip on self-control.

To his profound consternation slaughtering monsters never provided the same kind of relief compared to fighting fellow humans, which only cemented in his mind that this power of his, this _thing_ he never asked for, was malicious in nature.

Of course being challenged by the heir of one of the Four Great Houses opened its own can of worms, made even worse by the fact that his dad's barony belonged to the sphere of influence of said Great House. He had heard various wild rumors about the sole female child of Marquis Rogner during his time in Roer, but he never gave it much attention because the Rogner heir didn't attend the military academy there. But to see her name suddenly pop up like this, just what has prompted it exactly?

"Hey, what's the matter? Brooding on a day with this much sunshine? You are spoiling the atmosphere!"

Rean looked up and saw a tall cadet wearing the green uniform of a commoner, his shock of white hair tamed by a bandanna. The swordsman stood up. "Crow was it? Guess we never introduced ourselves properly after the orienteering exercise. Rean Schwarzer."

"Don't sweat it. So, fishing the day away? You sure are more easygoing than I thought."

The swordsman scratched his cheek. "I'm not so sure about the easygoing part. And as you see, I'm not exactly successful."

Crow shrugged. "Nah, that's no reason to be down. How about I show you a little trick?"

"A trick?"

"You got 50 mira?"

Rean looked the guy up and down. He sure was shifty. Well, it was only small change. "Sure, here you are."

"Cheers!"

The second-year flipped the coin and just as it was descending, he grabbed it with both hands, ending in him crossing his arms.

"So? Which hand is holding the coin? Left or right?"

The swordsman folded his arms. A trick, huh? He kicked the knapsack laying between Crow's feet. "The coin's in there, right?"

Silence descended upon them for a long moment. The second-year's mouth was hanging open. It took him several attempts to finally get his bearing. "You might be the first one who has seen through the trick on the first try. Are you already familiar with it?"

Rean gave the white-haired guy a half-lidded stare. "I'm not really familiar with methods to hustle people, so no. But you should have performed the trick with the sun at your back. I saw a short flash beneath your hands and that gave it away."

"Dang, to overlook something basic like that. But you sure you aren't in the business of doing tricks and stuff? This is some serious talent."

"I think I'll stick to history and martial-arts."

"Shame. To think master Crow got beaten by a firstie. I'll have to work on my coin tricks again - and the cards, and dice."

Coins, cards and dice? "You don't happen to gamble, do you?"

"Of course I do. Gambling is a microcosm of life itself. Any self-respecting man should indulge in it at least once. Or what? You telling me you've never gambled before?"

This was a conversation he absolutely didn't want to continue. He demonstratively showed the second-year his back. "Sorry, but I have to continue fishing."

He heard the guy plopping down beside him. Rean sighed. "You don't have anything better to do?"

"Beside trying and failing to hustle first-years? Not really."

"Now that you mention it, you still haven't given me back my 50 mira."

"Did anyone ever tell you that you take everything too seriously?"

"My 50 mira please."

"Tch. Cheapskate."

But before he could continue to insist on his money, he felt a tug om the line. Attention diverted, Rean strengthened his grip on the fishing rod, a Lakelord Mk2. His catch fought hard even as he flipped between reeling and loosening to tire out the fish. This was going to be a big one.

After an epic struggle the catch was finally dragged out of the water. It turned out to be a gigantic rainbow trout.

Crow whistled. "Man, didn't know these things become as big as that."

"Same here." Rean took out measuring tape and changed his ARCUS setting from chronometer to weighing scale. After calibrating his orbment with the already filled bucket, he measured length and mass and studiously jotted it down in his fishing notebook. As expected the rainbow trout was a new record and exceeded his former entry by almost double the length and thrice its weight. Perhaps a mutation caused by all the Sepith inside? He might contact Kenneth about it.

He straightened himself and packed up his fishing gear. High time to bring the catch to Kirsche. The rainbow trout alone came to 3.43 curim. Should be more than enough for the barista.

"What are you going to do next? Simply unload the fish and go your merry way?"

He glanced at the second-year. "That's what I planned."

"Oh come on. Aren't you going to extract the Sepith? It would be a shame otherwise, with a giant haul like that."

"I thought cadets like us can requisition Quartz and Sepith."

"Yeah we can. But let me tell you: The amount's pitiful and Quartz they give out is outdated crap most of the time. Besides the Quartz for ARCUS models require a different cut and internal wiring, so you can be sure as Gehenna that military surplus isn't going to have any for you, prototype technology and all."

"You are surprisingly well informed."

"There wouldn't be much reason to flaunt my seniority otherwise. So if you are ever in need of advice," he pointed with his thumb at himself, "old Crow is ready to serve." He winked.

He couldn't help but chuckle at his antics. "I'll keep it in mind."

The moment they entered the restaurant, the proprietor dashed towards the second year, desperation written on his face.

"Aidios be thanked! Crow help me out!"

Rean watched in bewilderment how a grown man clung to a student a decade his junior as if he was some kind of lifeline keeping him from drowning. "Relax Fred. What happened?"

"I need to know your bets for the coming race," He said with tears in his eyes.

The black-haired youth suppressed the urge to palm his face.

"Let me guess, you lost the last bet when you stubbornly hoped for Lino Bloom to make an upset and because today is your mid-month cash-check, Dolly's going to find out about the deficit." The tears were flowing freely now. Fortunately only old man Abbot was present and he seemed pretty inured to the whole drama. On the other hand, the noon rush was soon to come.

"Yes, yes. Now please Crow, be my savior!"

"Come on Fred. You do realize that even if you win today's Silver-Anniversary race-bet, the money isn't going to magically appear in the cash register, right? Dolly's going to chew you out one way or the other."

"I know. But the prospect of a big win might put her in a more forgivable mood."

The second-year rolled his eyes "I'm not so sure about that. But are you certain you want to use my betting strategy? I'm going for an exacta. That takes guts."

The proprietor visibly gulped. "When the chips are down, you always come through. I trust your instincts."

Crow shrugged. "Your funeral, Fred. First place Ebon Flash, second place Pegasus Strider."

The man ran back behind the counter like greased lightning, probably to fill out his ticket. Moments later he dashed out of his own store. Rean lowered the bucket he was carrying, feeling slightly useless. But he didn't have to wait for long until Fred returned again.

"Thank you Crow," the man said between catching his breath.

Rean stepped forward. "Sir, here's the white fish you requested."

Fred blinked. "Oh right, you are the cadet Towa recommended. And you already finished? That was quick, thank you!" He looked between him and the second year. "And you are also friends with Crow? Hah, you're engaging with the right people, let me tell you."

The proprietor took the bucket and went in the direction of the kitchen.

"Hey Fred, don't throw the stomach away when you disembowel the fish. This is a rainbow trout. And don't forget the special seasoning."

They only heard a muted "Got it!" as the door closed.

"You already eaten lunch?"

"No, I didn't."

"Then let's take a seat. Fred might seem a little flaky, but his skills in the kitchen's the real deal. He'll fix the stuff up quickly. Besides you aren't going to walk away on some sweet Sepith, aren't you?"

Both of them sat down. "You seem to be pretty good friends with the owner."

Crow grinned. "Let's just say we share a passion."

Rean rolled his eyes. "Really."

"So, how's Thors life treating you?"

For the next ten minutes the black-haired youth told the second year about his first week. He went through the courses, Sara's antics, the challenge and in a rare moment of openness even mentioned the awkward situation of sitting in the same class as his ex.

"Seriously? You and the Reinford chick? Man, never judge a book by its cover. I didn't think someone like you has been in a relationship already."

"First of all, _Crow_, her name is Alisa. And what do you mean with 'someone like me couldn't be in a relationship?'"

"Just thinking out loud. You seem to be the type who has too much on his plate and just continues to heap on more. Reminds me of someone. And you know, with all the stress there's probably not much room for something as involved as a romantic twosome."

Rean was speechless for a moment. Emotions seethed inside him, a painful cocktail of regret, melancholy and fear. Fear of failure, fear of rejection as well as the tried and true fear of himself. He closed his eye to regain his center.

"This is surprisingly insightful." He said aloud though hitting the mark was more appropriate. Looking back he truly lacked the commitment for a romantic relationship.

"Sorry. Didn't want to open up old wounds."

"No, it's nothing."

Luckily, the awkward silence that followed didn't last long - the proprietor arrived and put two big plates on the table. Rean recognized potatoe wedges as well as a gigantic burger. When looking at what was between the buns he didn't saw a typical meat patty, but instead...

"Is that deep fried fish?"

"Yep. Fish burgers. A family recipe of mine."

Fred laughed. "And Crow was generous enough to teach me."

"Let's see how my wayward pupil has fared. Dig in, Rean."

The smell was tantalizing to say the least. He didn't hesitate long and took a big bite, followed by an explosion of taste as the differnt textures melted inside his mouth.

"This is really good."

"Glad you like it. Hey Fred?"

"Yes Crow?"

"Bring us two apple ciders. And you might have to adjust the recipe a bit. The one I gave you was for seawater fish, but freshwater fish requires a different approach."

The barrister took out a notepad. "I'm all ears."

"It's mainly the sauce. Use sweetened mustard with a base of mayonnaise. As for aromatic herbs, fennel instead of dill."

"Thanks. I'll get to it immediately. You want seconds?"

Rean shook head. "This is more than enough. I have to engage in physical activity later, but in the evening I'm definitely coming for more."

Fred nodded amicably. He then took out a wooden box. "And here's the trout's stomach. Once the Sepith is extracted it should add up to quite a sum."

"But sir, this is too much. You are already treating us."

"Nonsense. The request was only for the flesh, nothing more. The rest is something you've earned yourself. And don't mind the meal. A friend of Crow is a friend of mine. No need to be a stranger."

After some more thanks both cadets finished their food in peace. The second year leaned back in his seat, pushing his empty plate to the middle of the table. "Man, this is the stuff!"

"You don't strike me as a gourmet, but the way you instructed the barrister was really impressive."

"Just call him Fred. I'm sure he would welcome it. And believe me, I'm not really that great a cook except when it comes to fish dishes."

"You grew up in a port town?"

Crow smirked. "Perhaps. But on another topic, you mentioned something about a challenge. Care to elaborate?"

Rean sighed. "Sorry, I really don't want to burden you further..."

"Let me be the judge of that."

He stilled before he caved under the second year's inquisitive gaze. Moments later the black-haired youth took out the challenge letter and showed it to Crow who whistled loudly. "The Rogner heir wants a piece of you, too? Are you some kind of celebrity attractor?"

"Didn't you say something about going to you for help?"

"Ha, my bad." The second year glanced outside the window. "But this is a matter that I can't really help you with myself. Just a lowly commoner here. Ever thought of asking your classmates? You also need a second."

"But I don't..."

"Want to burden them? Seriously?" He scratched his head. "Look, you need to learn to rely on other people. I mean, I could give you some idealistic speech about friendship or human cooperation but frankly: This officer school will utterly destroy you if you try to do everything by yourself. From a purely pragmatic standpoint you absolutely must ask others for help." He pointed with his thump towards the window. "And lookie here, some of your classmates are just outside - the son of one of the Great Houses among them. Surely he can be a counterweight to whatever the other Great House heir has cooked up for you."

Rean closed his eyes. Just now he was reminded of his fears again. He had a complex relationship with this particular emotion. It was the fear of his own power that drove him to become a student of the Eight Leaves One Blade. It was the fear of failure that made him push himself. But the fear of rejection? How did it benefit him at all? Didn't it instead prevent him from trying to reach out to other people? He gripped the edge of the table, probably with more force than necessary, but he finally made his decision.

"Thank you for everything." He stood up and performed a small bow. "I need to go now."

"Break a leg. Or two."

"Right."

As he saw the black-haired youth ran outside and meet with his classmates, a wistful smile appeared on Crow's lips. "And this was my good deed for the day."

* * *

She was surrounded by bliss. Her tongue wrestled like it had a life of its own, exploring the inside of her inamorata's mouth. Her hands roved around wildly, exploring the curves and mounds of this budding flower. A slight moan escaped the girl's mouth, but she silenced it quickly by deepening the kiss. The heat turned up more. Both of them lost their footing though their excellent reflexes allowed them to regain balance.

Nothing to do but advance.

She pushed until they met the wall, eliciting a cute yelp. Oh, this was just too precious. Her fingers wandered upwards, caressing the lustrous cyan locks, intent on attacking the buttons.

"No, Lady Angelica! Someone might see us."

She laughed lasciviously. "Why should it matter? Aren't we compromised enough?"

Miriam pouted. "You're shameless, Lady Angelica."

"Tut, tut. There are no lords or ladies that shall stand in the way of our love. Leave our titles where they belong."

Just as she was about to peel away the first layer of clothes, a most unwelcome interloper spoiled this most sacred of moments. "For Aidios' sake this is a public building, Gelica!"

Her lover yelped like a deer caught in the headlights. Moments later she ran away, apologies dropping out of her sweet lips like nectar.

"Crow, I think my fist might have an urgent appointment with your face."

"Relax. I would never disturb your 'hunting time' if it weren't important, you know?"

Angelica cracked her knuckles. "I'm listening."

"Isn't there a duel for you to fight?" He demonstratively opened his ARCUS orbment. "And it's in five minutes, just saying."

She bit down a scathing remark. The birdbrain was actually correct. "How come _you_ know about it?"

His cheshire grin became punchably smug. "I have my ways. Besides, wasn't that the scion of that one noble house who's sworn to your own - what was their name again? Schleiden?"

"So?"

"Seems like privilege abuse to me, you know? When the Rogner heiress's asking, it seems hard for one of them to refuse."

Angelica bristled. "The Schleidens are a military family. An official request bearing the Rogner name involves them putting their lives on the line to fight or to support us politically. Everything else doesn't fall under their purview."

"Really?" The white-haired menace shrugged. "Guess I did say girl on girl is hot, but don't forget how it might be seen by the rest of the school."

"You are just envious."

"That too."

They quickly left the janitor's wing, an usually safe place to have a little tryst during working hours, and marched to the Gymnasium. Shortly after, Angelica and Crow entered sparring hall three which was already occupied. There were five other people in total, all of them newly minted members of Class VII. Hopefully additional spectators were going to appear later. When meeting Miriam today she wanted her to spread word of the duel. That was until they were distracted by more pleasurable matters.

She shook her head to clear it from distracting thoughts and focused on the people in front. Two of them she knew beforehand: Jusis Albarea, second son of Helmut Albarea, the 'unfavorite'. She hadn't met him often. His brother Rufus was far more visible during social gatherings, but they got along the few times they talked. The feeling of being an unwanted child was something they shared.

As for the other, she was probably the one female noble who rivaled her when it came to conquering the hearts of innocent maidens. But while Angelica milked her conquests for all it was worth, Laura Arseid tended to be oblivious towards all the adoration she evoked in members of her own sex. A waste really, but she suspected the Arseid heir simply swung the normal, boring way.

The other two weren't known to her: A somewhat effeminate young man with orange hair who didn't look like he belonged in an officer school at all, though Angelica would be the first to admit that looks could be deceiving, what with her darling Towa. The other young man was quite simply a stud: Chocolate colored skin, broad muscular shoulders and probably about 1,90 arge tall. His face was fine-boned, but still exuded a strong sense of masculinity.

Oh well, she could appreciate a nice piece of man-meat, but the soft curves of the female form stoked her passions so much more. And speaking of studs, her target was certainly one. Also tall, about 1,80 arge, though it was hard to tell with his unruly mop of raven hair. She wondered if the guy took extra care or whether it simply looked this way naturally. Despite it's wild and seemingly chaotic nature it looked oddly stylish. His face was handsome enough to grace the front page of a fashion magazine. It was as if the Goddess collected the most important parts of classic Erebonian beauty standards, straight out of historical paintings and sculptures, and condensed them in a single male face. Not exactly her type, but she could picture swathes of young noble maidens, especially those enjoying higher education, falling for looks like that.

If anything she couldn't fault her dear, sweet Towa for having bad taste.

Her opponent spoke up first, his voice sounding miffed. "You could've warned me beforehand, Crow."

"Come on, where would be the fun in that? Oh, and greetings Big E, ladies and gentlemen of Class VII."

The effeminate boy and companions greeted back, though the red head seemed flustered. So another one of Crow's buddies from his academy days? Strange. He didn't seem the type to really get along with that rough loudmouth.

"You are the one who challenged me? Angelica Rogner, I presume?"

She turned her attention back to the black-haired youth and put both her hands akimbo. That's why she loved wearing her biking leathers. Nobody tripped over themselves trying to be all polite to match her social standing. Fortunately, Mr Unruly Black Hair seemed to get the message and went straight to the point, without all the flowery bullshit. "Yeah, that's me. You ready?"

"Not quite. Before we begin I have two questions."

She smirked and showed teeth. He didn't flinch. "Yeah?"

"First is why? When I received your letter yesterday, I feared I slighted you somehow without knowing, but now that we're standing face to face I don't feel any animosity. My second question pertains to the terms of the duel."

Angelica shrugged nonchalantly. "There really isn't much to it. I guess my reason for wanting to duel you boils down to the saying that actions speak louder than words. For the last week you were seen with Towa several times, usually when she invited you to dinner and as her close friend I'm somewhat curious just who she's spending so much time with."

She watched him closely as she spoke and saw him looking at Crow several times.

"So you two are the precious friends Towa was talking about. I didn't quite expect to be introduced to you like this."

Precious friends? Angelica wasn't sure what surprised her more: Towa being so open with the guy or him saying something so cheesy with a straight face. "Now don't misunderstand! Anyone who prevents Towa from overworking herself is alright in my book, but can you fault me for being curious?"

"Are you talking about Towa Herschel?", the foreigner asked.

Angelica smirked again. "The one and only. You heard of her?"

He nodded. "Her reputation at Baldurs precedes her. She was considered extremely...competent."

"I've also heard the name thrown around on campus", Jusis added. "Isn't she the current Cadet Committee Chairwoman?"

"The Committee?", the effeminate boy exclaimed with wide eyes. "I read about it in our cadet notebook. Aren't they like totally important in running activities here at Thors? They even have a say in institutional policies."

"I remember something similar", Laura mused. She folded her arms and tilted her head delicately. "And you were dining with such an influential person, Rean? Several times in fact?" She arched a questioning eyebrow.

Jusis huffed. "I pegged you for a noble who didn't care about social games, but it seems I must reevaluate my opinion of you."

The black haired youth scratched his head in embarrassment. "Guys, please don't misunderstand. We are just good friends from our time at Baldurs. We ate together at the cafeteria and because she always works until late, it coincides with dinnertime. That's all." He turned towards her with a lidded stare. "It seems though as if someone is intent on causing unnecessary rumors and misunderstandings."

"Come on!" Crow said in his easy-going way, "Don't put your panties in a twist, Reanie boy. Just like Angelica explained, anyone who prevents Towa from overworking herself is alright in our books. This is merely a friendly match."

Angelica pointed her thumps at the white-haired menace. "What he said. And to answer your second question: This is a showing of skill. Crow here is even going to cast Adamantine Shield on both of us. One solid hit, one point. No follow up attacks until protection is reapplied and best out of three."

The black haired youth nodded. "Sounds fine to me, but I would like to add another condition: Direct injuries are cause for disqualification."

Angelica smirked. "Agreed. Another incentive for the clown here to cast properly. Who's your second?"

Laura stepped forward. "I have bore witness to the agreed conditions and consider them appropriate. May the better warrior win."

She put on her steel gauntlets and assumed her stance. A moment later, Crow's arts casting was finished. Her opponent paused for a moment, an expression of surprise flitting across his face.

"Your style is an empty-handed one." He strengthened the grip on his tachi, but didn't draw it. "Are you going to be okay?", he asked with concern in his voice.

Assenting murmur followed his words. Seems the little Class VII chickees shared his worries. Always with the doubting.

"You should ask yourself the question instead, lover boy. Here at Thors, they call me the Blade-Breaker. You ready?"

He stroked his chin. "Blade-Breaker. Hmm, good to know." Her opponent deepened his stance, but the eastern sword still remained in its sheath. "Rean Schwarzer." He paused and cast her a meaningful look. "Hachiyou Ittou Ryuu. Ready!"

Angelica almost didn't catch his charge. From one second to the next, he was upon her, his blade extended in a two-handed thrust.

Long ingrained reflexes took over. Ki flowed into her fists, hardening them to the likeness of rocks. A powerful flick of her armored backhand to let the attack overshoot, followed by both her hands closing on the base of the blade, halting it completely.

Her consciousness caught up to her when she heard the sound of a sword leaving its scabbard. Her hands told her that what she was gripping didn't feel like naked steel at all.

She sensed more than saw him twisting his body, followed by a flash going for her right flank. She released the sheath from her grip, a freaking decoy, and desperately moved her right leg and arm.

A clank. Murmuring from the onlookers and only a sliver of surprise from the swordsman. Angelica glared. It wouldn't hurt the little punk to be slightly impressed at least, for she caught his slash between her knee and elbow.

He reacted instantly by adding his free hand to the grip and adjusting his legwork. A moment later, the steel between her joints started to etch forward. Angelica had to strain all muscles in her body to maintain her hold on the blade as well as her balance with just one foot connected to the ground.

This was the worst kind of binding ever. An uneasy stalemate with her opponent holding all the aces. She had banked on him being too surprised with her unconventional blade-catch to react properly, but he was having none of it.

Angelica inhaled deeply and focused her breath towards the base of her stomach.

And inhaled.

And inhaled.

_Goldia's glittering luster. _

She intertwined her spiritual energy with her natural control over space, compressing her accumulated Ki, so her body could handle it safely.

She loosened her hold, twisting her torso away from the incoming thrust, but the swordsman was already charging again, shoulder primed for a bodycheck, his sword ready to slash.

Just as expected.

Her right palm met his shoulder the moment both her feet were connected to the ground again. It meant that her stance wasn't deep enough, so she could harness only a sliver of energy from the ground. Her right hand, which had to stem her opponents full body weight, didn't have any opportunity yet to move forward and gain strike velocity.

The kinetic energy of an impact is one-half mass multiplied with velocity squared.

So zero velocity meant zero impact.

A detonation of spiritual energy, followed by a black haired little punk being catapulted back. The ding of the Adamantine Shield breaking resounded across the hall. Her enemy caught himself midair and softened his fall with a backwards roll.

"Point for Angelica", Crow called out. "And playing your trump card this early? I taught you better than that."

"Shut up birdbrain!" She grasped her spiritual connection with the ARCUS, drawing even more golden energy from the Quartz within. No more playing around. It had been some time since she encountered someone worth her while.

The black-haired swordsman took a stance, left foot forward and blade-tip pointed backwards. "The famed Zero Impact from the Satsujinken branch of the Taito Fist. Never expected an Erebonian noble to have mastered such a rare technique."

Wasn't he well informed? Truth be told, she was cheating a little to perform the Craft properly.

The Rogner heir struck both her fists against each other, eliciting a ringing sound as her armored gloves collided. "You are one to talk. An Eight Leaves One Blade practitioner from the Empire? I thought Poms would rather fly out of my mouth."

And he was utilizing Waki-Gamae, a stance designed to hide the length of a drawn blade. According to her master, most modern sword art dojos in Calvard didn't bother with this kind of deception, for the length of their weapons were regulated, the sword practitioners more concerned with tournament rules than true martial spirit. Well, it was pretty clear Schwarzer's blade-length was anything but regular. Apparently, he wasn't a mere pretender.

Another art protection was cast. Both opponents deepened their stances.

They charged at each other simultaneously, but before Angelica could properly punch his face in, he disappeared from her sight.

What the...?

Her instincts screamed. Angelica jumped from her full charge, only to see the glint of a blade rising. Deflection from midair as the swordsman shot past her from below, the length of his body almost parallel to the ground with mere rege separating him from kissing the floor. So he even knew Shukuchi?

Angelica stabilized her landing with a twist dive, going into a routine cat-stance. From there, she performed a high kick quickly followed by a reverse roundhouse kick. Both attacks were empowered by Ki, resulting in two successive shock-waves of air flying towards her opponent.

Orange flames lit up the length of the swordman's blade. He performed a cross-slash, neutralizing her ranged attacks and as fire met air, her shock-waves were devoured for sustenance causing the flames to expand in a brilliant whirl.

The Rogner heir blinked due to the sudden brightness, but as the fire started to dissipate, she saw her enemy with his sword sheathed, the lacquered metal glowing with energy. When did the little punk find the time to grab it?

She shouldn't have been surprised when he fired off his own version of a ranged attack, but she barely swayed out of the way. A shock-wave of air? No, this was pure Ki. The next moment, he followed up with another ranged slash.

Angelica inhaled deeply again, pooling her inner energy at the base of her stomach. A sudden, brutal exhale as she shouted her kiai, the spiritual wave canceling his Ki-slash, the thunderous sound making him stumble for the fraction of a second.

More than enough.

The blackened tendrils of time swept through her body as she stepped across the distance between them, invading his maai with impunity, forcing him into ultra-close melee. Three straight punches followed, their speed inhuman, for her fists were accelerated by Nohval energy and lightened by the gravitational manipulation of Space. But Angelica wasn't willing to show any mercy, inverting the polarity of the Goldia current just before her strikes landed, flipping the reduction of mass into a sharp increase.

He evaded her first punch, but his attempt to deflect the second unbalanced him, for he was hit with the force of an orbal powered sledgehammer. Her third punch sealed the deal, as his desperate block almost disarmed him, leaving his guard wide open.

And for the finisher.

A deep step-in followed by a snap-kick, the last part of her Infinity Combo. But just as she was about to taste sweet victory, her enemy twisted his body with unnatural grace and speed, his silhouette limned with blackness. An instant later, she felt how her attack was diverted by an expertly performed roundhouse kick, making her the unbalanced one.

Before she could even blink, the swordsman whipped his free arm towards her neck in a vicious knife-hand. Angelica raised her guard, but her opponent's arm coiled like a snake right before impact, a circular motion with his elbow as the fulcrum, ending in a vice-like grip around her wrist strong enough to be felt through Crow's physical arts protection.

The last thing she saw was Schwarzer reducing their distance to zero, while her body was pulled towards him. Her forehead exploded with concussive force strong enough to break the protection and throw her on the ground.

"And point for Reanie boy." Crow's voice was annoyingly smug. "My, Gelica. Are you going to let yourself be shown up by a firstie?"

Angelica suppressed her urge to pummel the lout senseless. She cursed and tried to blink stars away. A strike with the sword pommel. She had heard rumors about the famed versatility of the Eight Leaves, but this was getting ridiculous. Her opponent took out one distinct technique after the other like he was in possession of some kind of deranged martial-arts toolbox. And of course he ended up being a time incarnation. In the light of all these traits, the guy's affinity for fire only rated a mere afterthought.

"Are all second years as strong as you?" At least the punk had enough courtesy to be out of breath.

She scoffed. "What do _you_ think?"

The familiar tingle of the Adamantine Shield washed over her. Round three. Angelica closed her eyes, centering her roiling emotions. When was the last time she had a fight this close? Usually, only nobles dared to duel her and after a year, grinding court fencers into the dirt was getting stale. Technically, her enemy right now was also noble, but as the presumed heir of the Nortia Marquisdom she was well aware of the nasty rumors being told about that small Barony just at the northern edge of her family's territory.

When she opened her eyes, her sight turned everything into sharp relief. A deep breath to circulate the bounty given by the Dragon Stream. She slowly assumed Nekoashi-Dachi, the cat-foot stance, luxuriating in the feeling of bursting vitality. Her opponent stilled. Not a wisp of Ki or Nohval current could be felt. Even his breathing died down, his entire body as motionless as a statue. Angelica focused her senses on him, but all she perceived was... nothingness.

Something stirred in her memory.

_It is from nothingness that endless possibilities are born. Zero symbolizes limitless potential. _

The slightly lilting voice of the strongest and smartest woman she had ever known. An existence who gave her something to measure herself against. A distant ideal too beautiful to watch.

His transition from stillness to attack wasn't perceivable, but this was just a minor inconvenience as a second stretched into eternity. Afterimages trailed behind his wake as he sprinted towards her like a lion unleashed, the tachi obscured by his stance.

Angelica counter-charged to disrupt his timing, but just as she was about to deliver a punch, she perceived a little movement on both his shoulders. Her instincts screamed anew and she stopped her offensive just as his blade rose from seemingly nowhere to thrust straight through where her chin would be located had she continued her forward movement. A little stumble to stabilize herself followed by a step-in into his open side to perform a powerful low kick, aimed at his knee joint.

As if he anticipated her attack he crouched down and blocked the kick with the sword pommel, but instead of pushing against her foot she felt how his body gave away under the force, how he borrowed her own kinetic energy to perform a lightning quick pirouette. His sword caught fire anew ending in a flaming downward slash. Angelica only had enough time to cross her gauntlets above her head, before the attack smashed against her guard making her knees buckle. Flames washed over. She felt no heat due to the protection, but the brightness disoriented her. Rainbow flickers obscured vision and then pressure against her abdomen. A straight kick that wasn't strong enough to break through the barrier. Angelica jumped back with the kinetic force to open the distance between them, barely avoiding another downward slash.

She cushioned the fall with a combat roll, desperate for some breathing room, but her opponent wasn't in the mood to grant any.

He charged again, only this time his movement appeared straightforward and slightly off-center. Angelica side-stepped easily, a fluid tai-saibaki, fully intent on attacking his flank, but she was instead met with a wall of air which threatened to throw her down the ground again. She circulated Goldia energy, increasing her entire body mass to mitigate the aftershock, barely managing to stay on her feet.

The swordsman turned around quickly, his tachi brandished like the fang of mythical dragon. Winds were being stirred, green tinged turbulence gathering around his blade. Angelica continued her grasp on the Goldia energy, but instead of making herself heavier, she projected it outside.

The punk slashed across him, releasing another shock-wave strong enough that all onlookers had to brace themselves from the displaced air. Space distorted and Angelica teleported a few arge forward, phasing through her enemy's attack completely. She felt lightheaded from the energy loss, her sight blackening out, but she gritted her teeth and continued ever onward to enter his maai again. Even half-blind she could feel the swordsman's hesitation, her instincts shouting in jubilation that she finally caught him totally flat-footed.

The boosted punch buried itself inside his midriff with a satisfying ping, strong enough that she felt his body folding itself. However he surprised her again as she felt the caress of his blade slide along her neck until her own protection gave away and she felt the tip of the tachi cutting slightly into skin.

"And match for Angelica!" Laura cried out. "Rean disqualifies himself due to causing direct injury."

The Rogner heiress raised a hand towards the side of her throat. She felt only a little prick, nothing but a paper cut. Interesting. Actio equals reactio. Even as her punch landed true, he used the energy of the knock-back and the folding movement of his own body to retaliate. The absurd length of his tachi allowed him to do a sliding cut with the upper third of the blade. Without Crow's Adamantine Shield, the duel would have ended in a mutual kill: Him dying of ruptured organs and her entering the goddess's embrace because of a halfway severed neck.

Her sight returned to normal and despite the exhaustion she felt a feverish drive rising inside.

"This was a good match. And... sorry for the cut." The little punk walked with his classmates towards her, hand outstretched. She also registered other curious onlookers, most of them wearing pearly white uniforms. Very good. Miriam did as she asked.

Angelica grinned and shook his hand with more force than necessary, but as expected his grip-strength was up to par. "No biggie and the little injury you inflicted ensured my win - and my flawless victory record. We should do this again." She said all of it loud enough for the entire room to hear. "I didn't realize until now how out of practice I am. Going against the same Court Fencing style all the time dulled my skills."

The black-haired swordsman scratched his head. "I wouldn't disparage Court Fencing like that. It's quite an efficient style."

"Don't hold yourself back on my account," Jusis said sardonically. "Different than the Arseid or Vander style, Court Fencing wasn't created to brace the rigors of true battlefield conditions, but instead a means of winning regulated duels. Am I right to assume that your Taito and Schwarzer's Eight Leaves were also born in the crucible of war?"

Angelica could almost taste the sheer indignation radiating from the noble peanut gallery. She had to suppress a snicker. "Right you are, though the Eight Leaves is a slightly more complex issue, if I remember my lore correctly."

Laura nodded enthusiastically. "According to father, the different forms are derived from the secret household techniques of eight high-ranking martial arts sects in the East. And the founder of the style won the right to combine all eight styles by defeating the prize students of each sect successively during a legendary tournament."

The little punk was astonished to say the least. "I didn't expect you to be aware of master Ka-Fai's background in such detail."

The blue-haired beauty smiled. "So it's as I surmised. You are indeed a direct pupil of the founder. Master Ka-Fai and father correspond regularly and are well acquainted. Even I had the honor of speaking with him. Though I have to say, your display now was way above what you showed during the orienteering exercise when Instructor Valestein fought against us. Were you holding back?"

He scratched his cheek. "Of course I was holding back. We were fighting without any safety measures and most techniques of the Eight Leaves are designed to kill. While the forms are a collection of the teachings of eight different schools, all of them derived their techniques from life and death struggles."

A flicker of surprise and something darker appeared on Laura's face before she schooled it back to a stoic expression. "You are absolutely right. I spoke in haste. Serious training accidents have to be avoided at all costs, but even then the true edge of the style needs to be preserved. I have only just began my role as assistant instructor last month and father warned me repeatedly of this tightrope act."

"Okay guys, I know this place is crawling with martial arts nuts, but us common folks can't exactly follow your glowing enthusiasm. Besides, enabling this hellcat and her fighting prowess will only heap more grief on the rest of the cadets."

Angelica rolled her eyes, while Laura turned towards Crow. "Oh? I'm not sure I believe what you are saying. You seem pretty formidable yourself."

"Yeah, Crow had the best monster extermination scores back at Odins," Elliot chimed in. "He's really strong."

"Oh come on, Big E. You're making me blush. But now that we're gathered, how about a short stint to Kirsche's? You know, doing a little upperclassmen-underclassmen bonding. They even have a new item on the menu."

"Don't you find it problematic to advertise your own recipe this blatantly, Crow?" The black-haired swordsman rebuked.

"You loved my Fish Burgers and now you want to hog them all for yourself? For shame Reanie-boy, I didn't peg you for such a possessive guy."

"I didn't mean..."

"I'm all for it." Angelica cocked her hip. "And birdbrain here can foot the bill."

"Hey, you are the rich noble here."

"Sounds good to me." Jusis added his opinion. "Consider it a little investment to popularize your dish."

"It's not like I'm getting royalties or anything..." but Angelica was already leaving the Practice hall, the other Class VII chickees following her obediently. As they all left the training hall, the rest of the onlookers gave them a wide berth, clearly intimidated by the concentration of power and prestige.

"So, everything went down the way you wanted it?" Crow asked, glancing meaningfully at the cadets they left behind.

"Our black-haired swordsman was attracting the wrong kind of attention," Angelica whispered, "what with him hanging haplessly around Towa. This should scare off most of the average self-important buffoons at campus."

Her fellow second-year put his hands behind his head, whistling innocently and looking fondly at the Class VII members who were talking amicably with each other. "Ah Gelica, always looking out for the ones you care about."

She smirked. "You are one to talk."

* * *

**Additional notes**

**Zero Impact: **Despite most Zemurian martial arts being more akin to a shonen fight fest than anything realistic, the Zero Impact introduced by Enforcer VIII Walter seems to be inspired by a real world technique, namely the one-inch punch popularized by Bruce Lee. Of course Bruce Lee's version isn't exactly Zero Impact, because as the name implies, the fist does travel a whole inch. But tactically, whether the fist only travels a really short distance or nothing at all doesn't really make much of a difference in terms of usage. In real martial arts, a technique like this isn't used to break down castle walls, because without the existence of some mystical Ki force, a properly thrown punch will always be more powerful than one performed with almost no travelling distance. It's instead used as a surprise move in extreme close quarter. If any of you have ever watched a boxing match, you might have noticed how the fighters sometimes clutches their opponent's body as if they are embracing. That's because in boxing, grappling or throwing techniques aren't allowed, so the maneuver effectively neutralizes both their damage output, for both of them can't properly throw punches from this close. But if one of the boxers mastered something like the one-inch punch, it would be possible to deal damage even in such a situation. Funnily enough, the one time Angelica performs the Zero Impact in a cut-scene is exactly how it should be used realistically - during her mech fight with her father, she was cornered and Marquis Rogner was using his Hector's superior weight and strength to press her down. Angelica's Spiegel was already kneeling, so gravity was also on her father's side, that is until he was thrown away by an explosion of force. In a real fight, an one-inch punch might not be able to catapult the enemy across the floor, but it is perfectly possible to break the bind and follow up with further attacks while the enemy is most likely surprised and his guard open.

**Satsujinken: **Murderer's Fist. Angelica's Craft list already has quite some overlap with Walter's (Laser Bullet and Zero Impact). I added the Craft Infinity Combo for good measure, because I always found her skill list too sparse for my taste.

**Waki-Gamae: **In case you didn't read the entries about German Longsword styles, this is Rean's default sword stance in canon.

**Shukuchi: **Literally 'earth reduction skill/technique". Those of you who are familiar with the Rurouni Kenshin franchise might already know it. In Bleach it's called Shunpo and I'm pretty sure Naruto or One Piece also have their versions of the 'Flash Step'. Shukuchi on the other hand, is something that actually exists in real world martial art. When researching the word, the entries talk a lot about the etymological origin, but I didn't find anything about how it's performed. Realistically speaking, human beings can't move fast enough to entirely disappear from sight, so it stands to reason that the real world 'Flash Step' involves some measure to trick human vision. What I let Rean perform in this chapter is such a trick - for those of you who have played the first 30 minutes of Cold Steel 3, you might remember the scene when Rean arrives in Leaves and is greeted by Towa. The camera temporarily zooms to a first-person perspective and our newly minted instructor sees nothing because of course Falcom needs to make fun of Towa's height. Now imagine the same effect, only this time, it's deliberate. When we look straight forward, there's a dead angle in our vision though it can only be exploited if the distance is close and the opponent is either very small or makes him/herself so. For a tall guy like Rean to successfully do this, he needs to really contort himself, because he must also move forward while making himself small. Furthermore, he can't use his hands for stabilization because he's using a sword. But there's at least nothing supernatural about it, just almost superhuman body tension.


	8. Thors Moments II

**A/N: The last prepatory chapter, because there's still so much to set up. Also my shortest chapter to date. I'll start with the field study next time, big promise.**

**And thanks as always for all the reviews, followers and favorites. Your continued interest is what keeps me going.**

* * *

**Chapter 8 Thors Moment II**

As always she found herself swamped with paperwork. Unlike always she delegated most of the aforementioned work to various helpers of the Cadet Committee. The membership had grown since she became its leader though unlike at Baldurs she wasn't quite sure about the true motives of eager supporters. People who just wanted to make a difference? Career hounds wanting to improve their chances of staying another year at Thors? Usurpers who wanted an _in_ into the inner circle all the while eyeing her position?

Towa could hardly fault the latter. She was an usurper herself.

It was with this sense of ambiguity that she took the processed documents handed to her by Friedel Gueldenstern, the younger sister of Liliana whom she ousted. Over the months since Towa's ascension the younger Gueldenstern sister had worked her way up and became the adjutant by unanimous vote, thus occupying the same position she held before. There was a sense of irony and drama that amused and cautioned her at the same time.

Or perhaps Rean was correct to worry. The Officer School was turning her more paranoid than was good for her.

Towa skimmed through the various reports. Flawless work as always. "Thank you very much for your help, Friedel." She said sweetly. "I don't know what I would do without your support."

The second Gueldenstern heir smiled coolly. "Probably doing an even better job, but you have something coming up, right?"

"Yes I do. A meeting with the principal. I'm still waiting...", but before she could finish there was a knock.

"Speaking of the devil," Friedel murmured. She flipped her hair. "Well, I think the committee is finished with its tasks today." She went to her desk to pack her belongings. "Don't work until too late, Chairwoman Herschel."

She chuckled. "I'll try. Enter please!"

Another young woman walked into the office, petite with strawberry pink hair. She wore the uniform of a commoner and a placid expression on her face.

"Hello Claire. Nice of you to come."

Friedel arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "The chief editor of the newspaper club. Quite a rare guest. Here for more funding?"

"Oh, my club can get more funding? Didn't know that, but thanks for mentioning it." She smirked. "I might ask madam chairwoman here to expand our budget for circulation. Right now we barely cover the campus, but I'm sure there's an untapped readership among the inhabitants of Trista."

The captain of the Thors fencing club pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm not sure having simple citizens get insight into our Officer School's..." She trailed off, struggling for words.

"Grapevine? Rumor mill? Gossip factory?" Claire put a finger to her lips and her smile turned mischievous. "Teenage drama unveiled?"

"Yes that. I don't think letting the general populace know about these things would be conducive to the image we should project to Erebonian citizens."

"Pfft, ever heard of sharing? You don't seriously believe that each copy of the 'Grand Rose Magazine' is only perused by exactly one person each time? Jane from the gardening shop and Matilda the train station receptionist always mooch of the newest issue from the cadets. I think even Lala from Radio Trista has recently become a fan. They go absolutely crazy about our articles."

Friedel's left eye was twitching though the rest of her composure was flawless as always. "Is that so?"

Claire was getting more agitated by the second, her formerly placid expression completely gone. "I mean, have you Erebonian Nobles ever thought of publishing some of your steamy social intrigues? There's this glamour magazine from the capital I guess, but it only deals with the Imperial Family and the occasional scandal at St. Astreia. I see soooo much untapped potential."

"Have you ever heard of the word 'discretion'? Or is it a foreign concept back in Liberl?"

Towa swallowed and readied herself to intervene.

Claire shrugged. "I don't see the problem. In recent times the popularity of the Erebonian Nobility is at an all-time low among the 'commoners'," she raised her hands and made the air-quote gesture, "so shouldn't people like you or your families think about ways to salvage it? Lifting some of the veil of mystery behind your opaque social practices? Marketing the scandals that happen anyway? Just think about it: childhood romances torn apart by arranged marriages, the forbidden throes of passion erupting between noble and commoner. A lot of up-and-coming novelists are already raking in the mira writing fiction about it. You nobles could take your share of the profit, only instead of fiction you tell real stories all the while polishing up your ruined image."

Friedel sighed. "I'll see myself out. Excuse me please."

"Running away the moment she's out of arguments." Claire went to the chair in front of Towa and plopped down. "I guess Mr Grumpypant Neithardt did stress the importance of a tactical retreat." She reached into her jacket and took out a paper bag. "Want some, Towa?"

The diminutive brunette breathed out in relief. "What have you this time?"

"Marzipan drops coated in dark chocolate."

"Then I'll have some please."

Claire stood up and bend over the desk. "Say 'aaah'!"

Towa wanted to protest, but the moment she started to speak the pinkette gently put the chocolate inside her mouth.

She felt the sweet melt inside her mouth, though Claire was still holding to it. It was only after her tongue relaxed that the pinkette finally retracted her fingers. A few seconds of delicious rapture followed while Claire slowly and sensually licked the saliva from her hand, her expression as lascivious as a certain skirt-chaser's on her best days. Towa felt her cheeks heat up.

"Angelica is rubbing off on you," she accused.

The pinkette across from her grinned. "Why, thank you."

Towa pouted. "I wasn't praising you."

"So, how's Quincybell's newest line-up?"

"Wait, this chocolate is a Quincybell product?"

"Yup! Seriously, when people outside of the Empire think of Erebonians, they always mention your war-like mentality or how good you are at making weapons." Claire furrowed her brows. "There might even be the occasional drunkard who knows about the excellent winemakers, Steinrose or such. But the rest of the world is totally ignorant about this nation's first-class chocolatiers. Ever thought of conquering the political world through diplomacy and sweets? Half the Zemurian population would capitulate instantly!"

Towa chuckled. As always, Claire made it hard to stay cross with her. "The problem is the other half. Some of their members traditionally occupy most of the truly powerful positions in society."

She sighed theatrically. "Always the men. Shame. There goes my masterful plan for Pan-Zemurian peace."

The brunette smiled wistfully. "Wouldn't it be nice if things were really this simple?"

"Any particular reason you called me? Or do you want my usual report?"

Towa closed her eyes. While most people at Thors thought that George, Crow and Angelica were her main supporters there was actually a hidden member of her close inner circle. George's silent dedication as Thors best cadet engineer and her achievements as an administrator were the rock-hard foundation of her school-spanning influence, while Crow and Angelica were her openly displayed fists. Claire Sterling though was best described as the dagger behind her back, a concealed weapon which nobody saw coming and almost no one even knew existed.

The young woman from Liberl came to Thors through a school exchange program as she was a student of Jenis Royal Academy beforehand. Towa knew there was a lot of push-back over her attendance and it only came through by dint of Prince Olivert's insistence. She also heard bits and pieces about a student of the Empire having attended Jenis, so Claire coming to Thors was a way of returning the favor. Thus, the first hesitant attempt of a transnational school exchange program was born.

The board of directors and especially members of the General Staff Office probably thought that a mere _civilian_ from some backwater country would quit after a few weeks of being subjected to Erebonia's most elite education program - not to mention all the military conditioning.

Claire proved them wrong.

"The report can wait." Towa opened her eyes. "Though I imagine the Thors grapevine is in overdrive with the official inclusion of a class mixing commoners and nobles."

"Whatever you are imagining, it's not going to come even close. Especially the nobles are bursting at their seams with curiosity - and indignation I guess. It doesn't help that Class VII has their own dorm, is a testbed for prototype technology and only share few classes with the rest of the school. And they get a distinctive color all to themselves."

"Is this going to be a problem?"

"Not yet. There's some underlying resentment going around, originating mostly from the freshmen in Class I. The second and third year nobles are more chill about it and have a wait and see approach, but the preferential treatment has their eyebrows rising, too."

"You think we should start to let them intermingle more with the rest of the school?"

Claire shrugged. "That's not a question I can answer. A sudden shift in courses might come across as heavy handed which could ultimately backfire. I suggest waiting until the first field study, when all first year classes have to interact with each other anyway. Some cadets are already wondering whether you are going to use your position to give Class VII additional preferential treatment."

Towa twirled a lock of hair around her finger. "Well, this was one major reason why I ousted Liliana from her position in the first place."

"I know, but the moment cadets become aware of your favoritism and start pointing fingers, things are going to turn difficult. Right now Class VII are a bunch of unknowns with some really big names among them and no visible accomplishments. If the committee is going to dole out their support, it should only be after they prove themselves worthy. Otherwise you risk losing legitimacy and there's already the next Gueldenstern waiting to continue her family's tradition of 'excellence'."

She made the air-quote gesture again. "It doesn't help that you were seen so often with a member of Class VII last week. Rean Schwarzer, right? Most of the nobles didn't know anything about him, but the moment a former classmate from Baldurs spilled about his background..." she paused. "I'm sorry, but I fear Margarita is going to write an article about him in the next issue."

Towa buried her face behind her hands. "Oh no. I didn't realize. Does this school has eyes and ears everywhere?"

Claire smirked. "Frankly, yes."

"And you can't do anything to prevent the article from being published?"

The pinkette raised an eyebrow. "Not without arousing suspicion that I'm 100 per cent in your camp." She put another marzipan drop in her mouth and chewed slowly. "It's not the end of the world. It's all about how you spin the information and to be fair, his situation is uncommon enough to make a good article. Angelica is already helping him out, anyway."

Towa blinked. "Wait, she is?"

"The hottest talk right now is the fight between the adoptive son of a mere baron against the Queen of Duels Angelica Blade-Breaker Rogner, a clash of two exotic eastern styles, the Eight Leaves One Blade versus the Taito Fist, vying for supremacy."

The brunette almost planted her face on the desk. "Oh Angie, you never change." She raised herself up again. "I'm almost afraid to ask, but who won?"

"Technically, Angelica's the winner, but every eyewitness will admit that in all ways that matter it was a draw. Of course I'm going to do my part, so the proper result of the duel will be spread on campus."

"In other words, Angie created an example of a visible accomplishment."

"Yep. But it's just a beginning."

Towa sighed deeply. "I should really get out of this office and start to mingle again. I feel so out of touch about the goings on campus."

"As the chairwoman you are allowed to delegate your work."

"I've been doing this for the last four days."

Claire looked pointedly at her desk. "The large stacks of documents piled around you kind of refute your statement."

Towa chuckled. "This is mostly camouflage for the few truly important ones." She stretched out her arms and quickly drew out several thin folders in several colors.

"And this is?"

"The project files for the _other_ reason I needed to become the committee chairwoman."

A marzipan drop fell out Claire's mouth. It took her several seconds to close it again. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly."

"I-I thought this was supposed to be a joke. A mere possibility. And where does the money come from anyway? Not even Angelica cashing in was enough."

"You remember the Orbal Bike project? George sold the patent to Reinford. I spearheaded the sales negotiation." Towa held up a green folder. "This is the business plan. I calculated everything down to potentially unforeseen expenses for the first six month. If the project doesn't take off until then we can consider the whole idea a failure anyway."

Claire put away the paper bag with shaky hands. "And you want me..."

"...to be chief editor, yes."

The pinkette swallowed. "If I accept, I'll have to give up my current role as club president. I won't be able to support you from the shadows anymore."

"No you won't." She folded her arms. "Our roles will be reversed. Big Sis Towa will be the one to have _your_ back."

Claire smiled. "It could cost you your office in the long run."

"Perhaps, but it doesn't change the fact that I can put me being a committee chairwoman on my résumé. And I didn't strive for this position for the sake of it."

"Merely a stepping stone."

"Of course."

The pinkette breathed out. "What's next?"

Towa gave her a red folder. "This is a strategic oversight on how we go about establishing a newspaper to eventually rival the Imperial Chronicle. It's a work in progress and you are welcome to tweak it to your heart's content. Familiarize yourself with the current version because after that we have an appointment with Principal Vandyck."

Claire flipped through the pages. "A cross-media approach, eventual cooperation with Radio Trista..." She continued flipping. "An editorial made up of alumni from all military academies with Thors members at the helm... keeping everything connected through the Orbal Net, providing news content on a daily basis, a news room that exists in cyberspace..." Her eyes bugged out. "Wait, that's where everything's leading to?"

Towa allowed herself to be smug for once. "We are hardly going to take on the Imperial Chronicle playing by _their_ rules. If things go according to plan, you'll eventually become the chief editor of the first Zemurian online newspaper ever."

* * *

_Arise O Youth, the Thors Herald._

During his decade long tenure as principal, Vandyck had encountered his fair share of outstanding cadets. Despite being called a 'school' the educational reforms Thors underwent through the years had done away with many of the trappings of typical teaching institutions - a curriculum that couldn't keep pace with technological advances or blind adherence to theoretical book-knowledge while neglecting practical application.

Even in the face of that the project being presented to him dwarfed everything he could think of compared to what other cadets tried to achieve during their formative years at Thors. He looked over the three women sitting in front of him, all of them distinct in their idiosyncrasies.

"So if I understand correctly, Cadet Rogner is going to be chairwoman and major shareholder, Cadet Herschel chief manager and Cadet Sterling serves as chief editor?"

"That's the gist of it." Towa replied. "Given the unique political situation right now, we thought it the best time to establish a second major Erebonian newspaper."

"Are you referring to the tensions between the Reformist and the Noble faction?"

She tilted her head. "That too, principal, but I'm mainly thinking of the side agreements penned during the signing of the non-aggression pact two years ago."

Vandyck raised his eyebrows. As someone who had the honor of attending that most august of political event he understood immediately what she was talking about, but the side agreements weren't well known among laymen and the Imperial Chronicle also failed to address the topic. They were mostly a reaffirmation of key points laid out in the Arterian Charter of Universal Rights, freedom of the press among them. Given that the Septian Church played neutral mediator, they took the opportunity to slip in some of their own agenda as well. But like the promise of non-aggression, Erebonia's proclamation of honoring the Arterian Charter wasn't legally binding if the points mentioned didn't happen to be part of the Imperial Constitution in the first place. And freedom of the press had never been something the Empire saw fit to allow. Still, since the signing of the pact news makers started to become bolder and press censure wasn't enforced quite as strictly, so Cadet Herschel's assessment was as always perfectly on point.

"And utilizing the printing press of Reinford's 4th Division is another measure to make potential press censure more difficult?"

She inclined her head. "Heimdallr is out of the question. The central government could shut us down instantly and they don't even have to declare it an official censure given that the printing press is the property of the Imperial Family. I know from my time at Baldurs that there's a delicate balance between the Rogner family," she gave Angelica a glance, "and the Reinford Group and Marquis Rogner isn't going to disturb it outside extraordinary circumstances."

"What she said. Father is too much of a staunch conservative to like rocking the boat. This newspaper is going to run with my name on the helm, so he'll most likely assume it to be another stupid whim of a foolish daughter."

"Is that so?" Vandyck harrumphed. " Another thing that has me curious is the printing cost. I'm hardly an expert but it seems like Reinford charges you surprisingly little."

Towa wrapped a lock of hair around her finger. "Well, during the patent-negotiation chairwoman Irina was curious why we were in such a hurry to sell it instead of earning royalties once the Orbal Bike hit the shelves. Once we explained our reasoning she became intrigued which was quite a lucky break to be honest. We are going for a weekly print edition instead of a monthly one after all."

In other words, one member of Thors Board of Directors was already in her corner. The principal clasped his hands. "What can this old warrior do for you?"

Most of the requests that followed were well within his expectations and more of a formality than anything else, considering that the allocation of school resources was the cadet committee's duty to begin with: Two unused rooms located in the east wing for the editorial, a dedicated orbal terminal as well as a portion of the school wide data bandwidth. While irregular, work pertaining to the _Thors Herald _was going to count as club activity for the foreseeable future, though Vandyck was sure that the pretext wouldn't endure once the project really started to garner nationwide attention.

The final request did catch him off-guard though. "Pardon, but you wish me to contact Prince Olivert?"

Towa nodded. "Yes principal. You have seen this newspaper's mission statement. And I believe it to be in line with the prince's ideals."

Vandyck stroked his beard. "That's certainly true, but what do you want him to do exactly?"

"An exclusive interview would be a start," Claire remarked jokingly.

"That too," Angelica spoke up, "but first and foremost we need an endorsement. To be specific, an endorsement addressed to the Aulic Council."

"I see." This was something he didn't think of. But then again, this entire undertaking had the boldness and spirit of youth written all over. The three woman in front of him clearly had every angle covered. And looking at them he felt his chest swell with pride, for they embodied Emperor Dreichels' famous mandate to the letter.

"This is a compelling reason indeed. Consider it done."

* * *

He had been foolish. The warning signs were there. Both instructor Sara and Neithardt's reactions gave him ample reason to be cautious. But the first lesson ended up being almost boringly normal, so he let down his guard.

Falling right into the trap during lesson number two.

"History is the ultimate meta-discipline," a high-pitched male voice with a squeakily quality read out loud. "No matter which discipline or indeed any cultural technique, be it philosophy, medicine, politics, orbal science or something as mundane as cooking, everything has a history behind it."

His ears were burning brightly.

"Even the study of history itself has to begin somewhere. It can therefore be argued that as long as human beings take action, which also includes the systematic accumulation of knowledge in general, a study of the sequence of said actions can be made."

Every cadet in the classroom was staring at him. Some with pity or unease or even malice. There were one or two who were visibly suppressing their laughter - and failing. He thought of hiding under the desk and only his desire to hold onto the last scraps of dignity prevented him from going through with it.

"As far as essays go, the writing style is still rough around the edges," the history instructor continued in his squeakily voice, "but as far as the essay topic is concerned? To describe the _essence_ of history? MARVELOUSLY DONE!"

The stares of his classmates became piercing. Sweat ran down his neck. Despite his Eight Leaves training, he found himself utterly helpless faced with a situation like this. He hesitantly raised his hand. "Instructor Lysander!?" The looks of the other cadets turned incredulous.

"Yes Cadet Schwarzer? Though may I call you Rean? To find a kindred spirit like you strikes me as providence granted by Aidios herself. I feel like we should dispense with formalities altogether." His classmates looked away one after another as the infernal instructor closed the distance with a bouncing step. It seemed like they were intent on ignoring his plight, happy to watch him fall into the pit he dug for himself.

"I want to point out that the gist of my essay isn't something I thought up myself, instructor. In truth, I merely quoted a...mentor of mine."

"MARVELOUS! Such words can only be the product of an outstanding mind and you being chosen by said mind reflects favorably on you as well."

Rean looked up from his desk coming face to face with the implacability of fate. All of the cadets were ignoring him now, happy in the knowledge of his unintended sacrifice. Only a single person was still looking, a very pretty woman with short blonde hair, a sweet disposition and the bluest eyes he had ever seen. Her demeanor seemed almost apologetic and for a moment Rean lost himself in the hypnotic beauty of her gaze.

The sight of deep blue was cut off by thick-rimmed swirls made up of glass as opaque as the deepest winter fog. It filled up his whole view alongside a manic grin. When Thomas Lysander opened his mouth again, the words he uttered fell upon Rean like a death knell.

"Would you like an extra history lesson in private?"

* * *

_Two weeks later_

At times like these Fie almost understood why someone like Sara enjoyed this whole instructor gig: training other people was surprisingly fun. As she watched Emma run through the obstacle course she constructed, Fie felt a tiny amount of pride. After two weeks of Sara's dreaded morning runs both orbal staff users were told to step up their game. Instead of the well-trodden forest trail they were also forced to traverse Trista Forest in a straight line, with all the little obstacles it entailed.

While Emma asked her for help before the jump in difficulty, all Fie did was point her to Le Sage Boutique and their assortment of Stregas. Her classmate's reaction was strange though, for she had never heard of this most holy of sneaker brand. Where did she even come from? The boonies?

After Emma bought some _proper_ shoes, her performance instantly improved. But when faced with the challenge of running straight through the wilderness, stamina by itself wasn't enough. After she sprained her ankle on the first try, Sara was considering her return to the forest trail, but it was then Fie decided to step forward. She offered to train Emma on proper movement.

It was only fair. After all, the purple haired beauty had already started to tutor her in math. And orbal science. And history.

She needed to give something back. There was no way she would allow a repeat of her time in Zephyr. Back then, she was a meek little girl being helped out by everybody around her. A small leech who rode on the coat-tails of strong men and women.

When Sara convinced her to try this Class VII shtick, she wasn't that enthusiastic about it. Still, it ended up being her decision despite the pushy bracer. Now she had committed, so she was going to contribute.

Emma finally conquered the last obstacle, climbing and then vaulting over a six arge high wall. Just like Fie shown her, she didn't jump from the highest point, but lowered her body down the surface while holding to the wall top. She dropped and performed a roll on landing. Problem though: she was facing the wall the whole time during the drop instead of turning away, so her roll was stopped midway as her legs crashed against the barrier.

Not the most elegant finish, but she protected her knee joints at least. She stopped the time on her ARCUS. Four minutes, thirty-two. Much room for improvement, but this was to gauge the effectiveness of her coaching more than anything else. For a beginner like Emma, doing the movements correctly to minimize strain and maximize effectiveness of motion was key. Speeding up could come later.

Fie jogged to her diligent trainee who was laying on the hardwood floor, all four limbs splayed about. She was breathing heavily, her tank top soaked with sweat. The silver haired girl squatted down and pressed a bottle of water to Emma's cheek, making her cry out in surprise.

She might have gone a little overboard with the freezing art. Oh well, she didn't turn the water to ice, so worse case averted.

"Thank you, Fie," Emma pressed out between gasps. She opened the bottle and began to drink hungrily. Some water spilled over, wetting her soaked tank top even further.

A white cotton tank top.

Fie licked her lips and watched the eye-candy with unabashed interest. She wasn't sure what she was feeling towards her classmate or any of the other Class VII members, but most of them made her feel _something_. And she would never get to the bottom of these feelings by averting her eyes, even if it was a little perverted in this case.

Be honest with your vices, the boss used to say. He didn't exactly say it to her - more one of his silly platitudes he liked to spout when he was overdoing it with the gambling. She just happened to be in earshot, something he probably didn't intend, for he was so very quick to shield her from vices like some overprotective, doting... fool.

Being honest with vices her ass. Hypocritical old man.

"You did well."

Emma was still struggling for breath. "I-I'm so sorry. Still... inadequate."

For someone who had been at it for merely a week, Fie thought she was doing great. Not even people with Jaeger Enhancements became strong immediately. And never without hard training. She took out her classmate's decorative glasses and handed them back. Even without trying them on, which she did while Emma was occupied, it was clear the purple haired beauty had perfectly good eyesight. The way she handled the obstacle course without even once squinting her eyes was a dead giveaway.

Emma put on her glasses, toning down her looks from majorly hot to merely pretty, something Fie had a hard time understanding. She wore dark leggings or tights to hide her scars. To avoid stupid questions. But she didn't get what Emma's glasses were supposed to hide. Her awesome looks?

Whatever. She wasn't going to pry.

"In the future, try to move faster when climbing."

"Didn't you suggest that I should do it slowly right now?"

"Yeah, I did. But climbing a vertical surface is a little different. If it's just a short distance, it's better to be quick. You use your previous upward motion to power up your next step. If you pause between each movement, gravity has time to catch up to you."

"I see. This makes a lot of sense. Thank you Fie, you are really good at this."

More like aping what she had been taught by people she could never match. "I'll go clean up. You catch your breath."

Fie started to dismantle the obstacles and carry it away as part of her own training, putting stacks of wooden plates, vaulting horses or beams into the equipment room at top speed. Halfway through her work, she heard another person step into the gym.

"Knocking yourself out, aren't you?"

She stopped midway to give the speaker the most sarcastic look she could muster.

"Hello Crow." Emma greeted him with a little wave, still too tired to stand up and do her customary bow.

"What no greetings from you, Fie? Come on, that's cold."

"Here for _research_ again?"

"Well..."

"Eh, what kind of research?" Emma asked.

"Optimal bouncing vectors," Fie deadpanned.

"Hey short-stuff! That was supposed to be our secret!"

"Optimal..." Emma's face lit up like a tomato. "Crow!"

"Aww, look what you've done."

He had it coming. As Emma gave him a good dressing down, she stood at the sidelines and watched the fireworks with a smirk. Out of the second years the white-haired jokester was the one she was closest with. Angelica was pretty cool, but her constant flirting put a damper on things. Towa was probably one of the nicest persons she knew. The brunette was the first to help her with studies, but Fie soon started to feel bad with taking up her time, what with the gigantic workload she had. George always shared sweets with her, which was also nice, but they had too little in common. That left Crow, who reminded her a little of Xeno. A playful and relaxed attitude that hid a dangerous fighter with a rare touch for misdirection and firearms.

And just like Xeno, he needed to be taken down a peg or two on occasion.

After Emma was finished with giving Crow an earful, Fie resumed tidying the hall, but the second year told them that there was an announcement for all first years to be held soon.

Right. The briefing about the field exercise. She totally forgot. So he had a reason for coming beside ogling.

"How about I help out with the equipment here?" The second year offered.

She nodded curtly. "Kay." Emma also joined up, though she still gave Crow a glare or two. Together they soon had the hall restored to a pristine condition with her and the second year even cleaning up the floor.

"Thanks." A little perverted and a slacker, but she could always count on his help.

"Don't mention it. Well, I'll be going. Perhaps there are other Class VII members who have forgotten the appointment."

"If I may ask, why do you know about the briefing in the first place?" Emma, while still leery, seemed somewhat mollified after his aid.

"Because second years like me also need to partake in field exercises. We can choose our assignments though and we also get to command you firsties."

"I'm not taking orders from you."

Crow tsked playfully. "My, my Cadet Clausell. Insubordination before the mission even begins. This doesn't bode well."

"Doesn't Class VII have a special field program anyway?" Emma remarked.

The second year winked. "That's for me to know and for you to find out. The meeting is in lecture hall two." He turned on his heels and left. "See ya!"

After a hot shower and a change of clothes they were ready for the briefing. Emma still fussed about Fie's tie, something the former Jaeger was happy to allow. While Crow was like Xeno, Emma reminded her of Kirsi. Their looks and personality were nothing alike, but they gave off a similar vibe both carrying a somehow motherly aura. Not that she knew what a mother felt like in the first place, but it fit her imagination. And having female adults in the corps had its perks. While all the grown ups took part in raising her, there were things better handled by a woman's touch.

Like when she had her first period.

Confusion and pain aside, it was a good memory. Seeing Xeno, Leo and even the boss running around like headless chickens just because she was bleeding between her legs was one of the funniest sights ever. It was Kirsi who explained to her what the blood signified.

"What are you smiling about?"

She blanked her face and felt a pang in the pit of her stomach. "Nothing."

Emma simply nodded and finished the tie. That was another thing she liked about her. The purple haired beauty never pried which is why Fie returned the courtesy.

"Shall we go?"

* * *

The lecture hall was packed to bursting. Usually it could house the entirety of the first year cadets and some, but there were also retinues of enlisted soldiers being present. Seeing the man behind the speaker podium, it became clear why: Brigadier General Gneisenau, the official Vice-principal of Thors was the one holding the briefing. Fie had spoken to him once and the only lasting impression she got was that of an oily bureaucrat. A typical armchair general, though the boss would call him a REMF. Due to being active duty he was absent most of the time, making Beatrix the true Vice-Principal at Thors in all but name.

The other retinue of soldiers wore gray uniforms in contrast to the dark violet of the regular Imperial Army. Fie frowned. The RMP, another elite section of Erebonia's glutted forces. Leo called them worthy opponents and the boss repeatedly stretched that an RMP company was easily a match for an entire Zephyr regiment. Given that they were also called the Blood and Iron Chancellor's attack dogs, Jaeger corps working in the Empire often had to tussle with them.

Their most frequent employers in Erebonia were nobles after all.

Emma and her made it to the other Class VII members. Crow and Angelica also lounged near their group, bickering with each other as always.

"Ah, my favorite wayward student. I trust the coaching sessions are going well?"

Emma bowed slightly. "Yes instructor, Fie does a wonderful job."

She saw Rean giving her a dorky thumbs up. Gaius and Machias both smiled and the bespectacled guy even inclined his head respectfully. Sara made one of her silly faces and started to pat her head, but her hand snaked out and swatted the offending limb aside. Then her eyes met Laura's. For a second, the air froze. Then the swordswoman turned her head away as if this little bit of contact never occurred.

Fie felt her heart constricting.

She didn't know what happened. Two weeks earlier, after Angelica fought Rean, a duel she regretted missing, the bluenette's attitude toward her did a complete 180. Out of all the Class VII members, she was the one who she felt the most kinship with, despite the stark difference in their background. The ARCUS Link between them simply felt _right, _both of them existences who shined the brightest in the heat of battle.

The nasal voice of the brigadier general interrupted her musings.

"Salutations, ladies and gentlemen of Thors. Today I would like to talk about transportation. You are surely aware that Liberl, Calvard and our beloved Empire all have a method of transportation that is most emblematic to the respective nation. The Liberlian's have their aircrafts, Calvard has their orbal cars and Erebonia has it's famed railroad. I'm not going to start droning about pros and cons of each transportation method, but I will tell you that in the context of the biggest military on the continent, the railroad reigns supreme! A big army might sound good on paper and during political negotiations, throwing around numbers might intimidate a head of state who never ran a combat operation his entire life. You on the other hand should know better. The strongest tanks are useless if they can't reach the battlefield and a high number of soldiers will clog up supply lines if not properly transported, all the while being a massive drain on the country's economy."

He bend down on the podium, his hand clenching into fists. "It is said that a good field commander masters tactics, while a good general masters logistics. And the key to Erebonian Military Logistics is to master the use of the mass transportation system called the railroad. As an educator I'll of course say that everything Thors teaches you is of the utmost importance, but if I were forced to make a choice, the one thing aspiring officers of today absolutely _need_ to internalize is the know-how on how to do mass mobilization by train."

He turned around and opened the blackboard, revealing a map of Western Erebonia. Fie's eyes were drawn to several colored highlights all centering around a certain familiar city. So that was going to be this month's destination, huh?

"The field exercise is going to be conducted in one week starting at 5 pm sharp. The train we use will be of civilian make. Retrofitting it for military transportation, loading supplies and weapons as well as coordinating the operation will be at the discretion of the cadets. The instructors are there for oversight, but they aren't going to hold your hand the whole time. As you can see," he gestured to the map, "the destination is Saint-Arkh. The exercise area includes Parm as well and the duration are four days. Beside the train operation, which is mandatory for everyone, cadets have the opportunity to deepen their chosen skillset in life fire exercises with Dreizehn tanks, scouting and marksman training as well as radio communication. Due to our location, members of the military law course are permitted to attend lectures and seminars at the Saint-Arkh Aulic Council during the third and fourth day."

She saw Machias straighten after this announcement. Right, he was a law major. "Last but not least, there's of course Special Operations which will be conducted by our unique addition this year." Following the brigadier general's gaze, the other classes turned to the red jackets almost as one. Fie ignored the pointed stares, though even she felt the weight of attention settling on their little group.

"As aspiring officers I also want to remind you of the provisional rank you carry. As second Lieutenants of the Imperial Army you have limited policing power in the Sutherland Province. I must stress though that even the lowest Provincial Army soldier supersedes your rights in this regard. Keep this in mind. The last thing we need is a jurisdiction war breaking out or seeing Thors position as neutral arbiter threatened. Last but no least, Forsetis Military Academy is going to send second year students to watch our life exercises. Some of these students are even slotted to participate. As such, I expect flawless conduct. Carry yourself with dignity and grace befitting a future officer of the Empire and set a sterling example for those younger than you." The man went into parade rest. "Thank you for your attention."

After some polite applause, Brigadier General Gneisenau stepped beside the podium. "Now, I would like to introduce you to a guest lecturer who will serve as liaison to the RMP. She will also be the main overseer of this field exercise's train operation." He nodded towards the gray uniformed retinue. "If you would, major?"

The woman with cerulean blue hair who walked to the front was stunning, but not in the martial sense. Since Fie started to attend Thors she had been surrounded by a lot of attractive people, but even the prettiest women here paled to the sheer outer perfection of the beauty who took place behind the podium. Everything about her seemed like it came out of a painting - smooth, pretty skin, her face the likeness of a... what did Leo call it again? A bisque doll? Coiffed hair that was bound in a stylish side-way ponytail and her curves could be seen even through the drab uniform. They were optimally proportioned, the essence of womanhood without being exaggerated like Sara or Emma, although that had its own charm. Fie squinted her eyes. In a way, she was too perfect, as if she wasn't entirely real, a body designed on the drawing board. And there was also the way she moved.

It was the gait of a seasoned killer.

She saw Jusis glare and clench his fists, before restoring his posture. Even Sara was frowning. Another noble cadet stood up, his face flushed and his orange hair swaying a little due to the sudden movement. "Is this supposed to be a joke? Bleating about being _neutral_ only to install one of the Ironbloods as a guest lecturer? Is this how far Thors has fallen?"

Murmuring broke out, but this time Principal Vandyck stepped up. The man didn't utter a word, his mere presence calming the room until it was silent again. "Cadet Hyarms, be assured that this joint operation between Thors and the Railway Military Police has been approved by your father. Marquis Hyarms is also well aware of the particulars including the major's part."

The man folded his arms across his barrel chest. "I understand your distaste, but please consider that what the RMP is going to share with the cadets is not political ideology. As Vice-Principal Gneisenau stated, the railway network has become an indispensable part of Erebonian Military Doctrine. This is a reality even the Provincial Army cannot escape from. The RMP could as well hoard their know-how, but they choose not to. I would see this as an olive branch instead of an attack."

The Hyarms guy scoffed. "And am I to believe that the RMP isn't going to use the opportunity to shamelessly poach cadets, understaffed as they are?"

"I won't deny it," the cerulean haired woman interjected, her voice deeper than her delicate features would suggest, "but in the same vein we cannot prevent cadets like you to use our expertise against us somewhere down the road, can we?"

The pompous noble scoffed again and sat down. Seemed like he ran out of retorts.

The RMP major cleared her throat. "Now that grievances have been aired, allow me to introduce myself." She smiled though it didn't reach her eyes. "Claire Rieveldt, former Thors alumni and as you no doubt have gleaned from the conversation, a major of the Railroad Military Police. It's an honor to stand before you and do my part in educating the future of Erebonia's finest..."

* * *

The so called 'briefing' continued until Fie was bored out of her skull. There were a lot of undercurrents she didn't understand, politics surely, and a lot of stuff dealing with logistics which had never been her strong suit. Cynthia and Leo were the ones who mainly dealt with the corps' finances and supplies. Even the boss hated doing the stuff and took every opportunity to play hooky, often turning it into a game of hide and seek.

Jaeger style of course, so copious use of traps, grenades and ordinance to keep Leo and Cynthia at bay, while they hounded the old man for his signature on some stupid bill or contract. And more often than not, he made her into his accomplice, something she relished. Kirsi reprimanding her once the game was over was just the cherry on top, when she told her 'to stop spoiling the old fart'.

It had become easier to think back to her time with Zephyr. Slowly, so very slowly, the sting of loss and abandonment lost its bite, the good times mixing with the bad to make the memories bittersweet. She glanced to the side where Sara was sitting. The former jaeger turned bracer had approached her shortly after the term began and they talked...

It was awkward like all gehenna.

It was still a good talk and she was surprised to learn how similar their backgrounds were. They repeated the talks over the weeks, though it often ended up with both of them doing weapon maintenance side by side with nary a word exchanged. It still made it easier to deal with her issues, so she was grateful.

The lecture hall was almost empty now. Only Class VII, Instructors Sara and Neithardt as well as Crow and Angelica still remained in their seats. Major Rieveldt was talking with the brigadier general. The quartermaster of Class VII's dorm, Lieutenant Commander Leuventhal walked towards their group, the clacks of her heeled boots resounding strangely in the big room.

"Any reason you lot are still remaining?" the navy officer asked, her lips forming the shadow of a smirk as always. The woman had become another fixture in Fie's life at Thors, albeit a distant one. Beside her role of making sure their housing was properly maintained and stocked, she was also the second instructor in their orbal science classes together with Makarov.

"Weeell, knowing now that Ms Icy Maiden is part of this shebang, I have the slight suspicion that our esteemed Vice-Principal might have done some last minute changes to Class VII's field program - again."

Major Neithardt folded his arms. "While I wouldn't express my reservations quite this flippantly, I fear that Ms Valestein's worries might turn out to be true."

"I see." The navy officer retrieved a small package and took out a cigarette. A quick glow of arts activation, as short as a blink, to ignite the stick of tobacco. She inhaled deeply, the tip of the cigarette glowing brightly, before releasing the smoke with a satisfied sigh.

"This is the stuff! By Aidios, this briefing took much too long." She looked around. "Anyone here want a try?" She displayed the cigarette package in her hand.

Most of her classmates declined and before Fie could express her interest, Major Neithardt interjected: "Lieutenant Commander Leuventhal, I would ask you to refrain from trying to corrupt our cadets. Your smoking is as unacceptable as Valestein's drinking."

Both female instructors looked at each other before simultaneously shrugging, their expressions mirroring each other in a this-is-the-kind-of-guy-we-have-to-deal-with way. The second years started to snicker when they saw the faces and Fie also found it pretty funny. It was the kind of exasperation that was often shared between Kirsi and Cynthia who liked to call themselves the only sane people in Zephyr. Compared to those two, Sara was kinda out there. As for the LTC, Fie wasn't sure, for she couldn't gauge the woman properly.

"Greetings to you, instructors and cadets of Class VII." The RMP major had finished her talk with the Vice-Principal and approached them calmly.

"Ah, my favorite RMP person," Sara drawled, her voice oozing sarcasm. "To have an Ironblood gracing us with her presence, what honor!"

"Hello to you too, Sara," Major Rieveldt's voice was clipped. "Major Neithardt, Lieutenant Commander Leuventhal." She inclined her head a fraction. "And hello to you, Alisa, Rean." Her face broke into an earnest smile. "It's been a while, though I have expected Towa to be here as well."

"Hello, Major Rie-, I mean Claire." Both Alisa and Rean stumbled over their greetings and Fie narrowed her eyes. Those two had been giving off strange vibes since the orienteering exercise, something everybody from Class VII had picked up on.

"Towa isn't here today," Angelica spoke up, "but consider us her stand-ins."

"Angelica Rogner I presume? It's an honor."

"The honor is all mine. By the way, major, you don't happen to be free this evening?"

"Gelica, could you stow it for once?"

"I fear I'm unavailable this evening as my timetable is full until next month. If it's urgent though I could spare a minute or two later." The cerulean haired beauty turned to their group, demeanor becoming crisp and businesslike. "I can see that some of you already anticipated last minute changes." Sara snorted, which she ignored. "The train operation is still mandatory for all cadets including you, but after establishing the base Class VII will be housed in Saint-Arkh - in the building belonging to Veteran Affairs in fact."

All cadets including Fie looked at each other in confusion. Only Machias kept his cool. "If I remember correctly, Veteran Affairs is located in an adjunct building to the Aulic Council?"

"Exactly. It's in fact the Aulic Council who will be the main... instigator of your field study tasks, so we thought it prudent to have your main base of operations nearby."

Machias expression became strange when he heard the words, though he didn't seem to dislike the message.

Alisa meanwhile was outraged. "Wait a moment! I attended Thors with the understanding that I would be part of life fire exercises. Observing and working with Reinford products in action is a main reason why I came here in the first place."

"I'm sorry to inform you Alisa, but this is the military. Chain of command is absolute and you go where you are assigned to." The major's face softened and a tender smile appeared on her lips. "I'm sure you will have ample opportunity in future field studies to achieve what you came here for. Besides, an engineer's talent is always needed. You don't want to leave your fellow cadets short a valuable skillset, do you?"

The blonde blushed prettily. "I... guess not. Sorry, that was selfish of me."

"No harm done, Alisa," Rean said warmly, which made her turn around in surprise. "And thanks as always for your encouragement, Major Claire."

"I haven't done much, Rean, but thanks." She looked around, smile still present. "It was nice meeting all of you. I look forward to being a temporary instructor for the next week." She saluted sharply and left.

"What a woman," Crow said with a whistle when she was out of earshot.

"As much as I would like to reprimand you, I can't find it in myself to disagree," Machias said with a sigh.

"Ditto," Elliot added.

Fie couldn't contain her curiosity anymore. "Speaking of 'Major Claire'," she put on her best predatory grin and focused her gaze on Rean and Alisa, "how come the two of you are so close to her?"

Sara and LTC Leuventhal both started to smirk as they turned their attention to the pair. The rest of Class VII plus second years soon followed.

Watching the two squirm was almost a reward in itself, but at this point, she really was hungry for answers and it seemed that her other classmates plus instructors shared her sentiment.

Rean scratched his head. "Well..."

* * *

**Fun fact: Technically, this chapter only has one OC. Guess who?**

**And I'm aware that Claire still holds the rank of captain in CS1, but I find this pretty unrealistic. A military officer who according to Karl Regnitz has the entire Provincial Army 'scared stiff' should really hold the authority to command more soldiers. Lechter can get away with captain, because field intelligence is either solo work or small groups, but for the RMP to project power they need numbers.**


	9. City of Parallel Justice Saint-Arkh I

****Thors Officer School, ToCS1 Outside the Fairy Tale****

****A/N: And we finally begin the first Field Study, after over 80,000 words of setting stuff up. I hope I don't run into scope-creep. I do want to finish this project at some point. As always I would like to thank everybody who followed, favorited and reviewed. Some additional notes can be found at the bottom of the chapter. After all, we get Professor Rean's POV again.  
****

* * *

**Chapter 9 - City of Parallel Justice Saint-Arkh**

Machias didn't like to impose on people, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"So, you want me to look out for in-depth references to evidence law and court martial procedures?" Rosine was scribbling into her cadet notebook.

"Yes please. Class VII will be housed right next to the Aulic Council, but knowing my luck, I won't get the opportunity to attend the seminars and talk to the lecturers."

Alan chuckled. "Look at you Machias, preparing contingencies to secure your top student spot. Seems like Thors life is rubbing off on you."

He chuckled back. "Seems that way. And thanks a lot, Rosine. I won't presume that you have the same academic focus as I, but sharing your transcript will be the next best thing to being present."

The short haired blonde smiled tenderly, a sight that made Machias heart skip a beat. "You are welcome."

Alan narrowed his eyes, his posture slouched. "And how come you still look so energetic after all the retrofitting work? I feel like keeling over and hitting the hay any minute." He looked out the train window. "I mean, Valestein is called one of the demon instructors for a reason, but does it make such a difference for her to be your main instructor?"

Rosine finished her notes and looked up, her beautiful blue gaze brimming with curiosity.

He raised his right arm and flexed his fingers. Now that Alan mentioned it, he didn't feel fatigued at all, even though he and his classmates did as much physical work as every other first year. There were quite some aspects at Thors that he found much to his liking, but the way almost all instructors pushed the cadets irrespective of their social class was certainly on top of his list. "I should be exhausted..."

His friend from Odins sighed. "Except you aren't. Man, Machias the bookworm being all tough. I guess gone are the days when I was the one to drag your ass out of the fire during monster hunting assignments beneath Heimdallr."

"Don't sell yourself short, Alan. I might have more stamina now, but I still wouldn't trust myself when put in a life combat situation."

The brown haired youth shrugged. "Who would really? Especially if it's not against monsters but fellow human beings?" He scowled. "Or fellow Erebonians..."

Machias thoughts turned to Class VII's combat monsters - and to a certain silver haired girl in particular, who disassembled both his assault rifle and his trusty shotgun quicker than he ever could, despite him having used those weapons for over two years.

And after she finished her maintenance, both firearms shot like they were newly bought from a store.

"I think we'll be ready for whatever these field studies throw at us, considering the combat aptitude of some of my classmates."

"With someone as strong as Rean, I can understand your confidence."

Machias blinked. "You know Rean?"

"I didn't tell you? I put out a request for the cadet committee to give me some pointers for sword fencing." Alan grimaced. "You already know about Patrick," he almost spat the name, "and Friedel does nothing to rein in his escapades. So to catch up to the pompous ass I finally decided to ask for help." He scratched his head. "My girlfriend might have something to do with it when I vented my frustrations to her in my last letter and she scolded me - and stop rolling your eyes, Machias. Even you couldn't find any fault with Brigid and her family."

"Yes, yes Mr Schneider. I concede that I was being a distrustful prick to her. Satisfied?"

He folded his arms grinning, while a blush dusted his cheeks. "Completely, bossman."

Machias pushed up his glasses. "Never ever utter this accursed nickname in front of my classmates."

Rosine giggled at their antics.

"Okay. To go back to my story, my request was answered by Rean and he went straight to the point and sparred a few rounds with me ."

"So you fought against his eastern sword technique?"

"Not at all. He used a rapier and Court Fencing, although his style was unorthodox. Totally strange rhythm, if that makes any sense. No matter, he trounced me and after that we reenacted our practice fight step by step, while he pointed out my weaknesses." Alan scratched his head. "Though even that was strange. He never corrected me on my technique, said that my form was more solid than his. It was more the way I should approach a fencing fight mentally and to actually understand the deeper purpose of the various techniques." He shrugged. "The next time I fought Patrick, I landed my first clean hit on him. I still lost the overall match, but seeing his smug grin disappear was worth it. Since then our matches always end up being close, so he has even stopped talking about 'lucky shots'."

"And if you keep at it, you will grasp victory at some point."

"Hah, thanks for the vote of confidence Machias, but yeah, I feel our gap closing with each session."

"To think that Rean could teach so well..." Rosine spoke up, "even in a style he doesn't specialize in. This sounds very impressive."

Machias concurred. He wasn't surprised however. Laura all but treated him as an equal in what she called the 'Way of the Sword' and even a layman like him had heard of the strength of the Arseid Style.

Though until he witnessed the real deal, he assumed the rumors to be the usual...self-fellation that nobles indulged in all the time.

"As I said, he's strong. I wouldn't want to face him when he's wielding that exotic sword of his, but I heard about the duel he got sucked in against Angelica Rogner. That must've been one crazy fight." His friend turned towards him. "You don't happen to know some juicy details, do you?"

"Afraid not. Duels between nobles isn't exactly high on my list of priorities."

Alan arched both his eyebrows and Rosine tilted her head.

"Okay, that _particular_ duel might have piqued my interest." He raised his hand and almost let his index finger and thumb touch. "But only a little. Besides, gehenna would sooner freeze over than Rean saying anything to elevate himself. Fie was much more curious about the duel, but her attempts to make him talk ended in failure. Except his one line of 'I lost the match, so it wasn't much', it was like her trying to wring blood from a stone."

Machias didn't say it out loud, but seeing her frustrated was nice for a change. He usually wasn't much for schadenfreude, however since the little imp started to warm up to him she never missed an opportunity to needle him.

Emma called it good-natured teasing though.

"Good for you, Machias," his friend declared.

He furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Alan is obviously glad for you and how well you are getting along with your new classmates," Rosine mused, her lips forming another one of her trademark tender smiles. "I think he was worried about how you were faring given the little contact Class VII had with other classes until now."

The brown haired youth scratched his head. "You got it in one, but are you some kind of mindreader?"

Rosine's smile became a touch enigmatic. "I simply listened to the voice of your heart."

"Right," both young men mumbled simultaneously. They looked at each other for a second, before looking away, embarrassed.

"Just to make it clear: I might get along with most of my classmates, but there is one pompous ass who can go choke on a pom."

Alan rolled his eyes. "As much as I would like to hear more, especially the dirt you got on the Albarea hot-shot, I really need to turn in now." He stood up. "See you tomorrow and don't stay up too long, bossman."

"I told you not to use the nickname again!"

His friend ignored him, while his brain ignored the fact that he was now left alone with a very pretty woman sharing his compartment. Rosine was also someone he knew from his time in Odins though they were in different classes and didn't encounter each other much during extracurricular activities. Thors changed this and he was glad for it. While it was important to get along with his immediate classmates, he considered it important to establish connections outside of Class VII.

"This truly is a lovely evening."

Machias scratched his head. "Yeah, it really is...," he trailed off, unsure how to continue the conversation.

Rosine smiled sweetly. "Say Machias, do you plan to stay in the military?"

"Actually no. Me attending Thors is more to get away from Heimdallr and dad's sphere of influence."

Her face fell. "Oh sorry, I didn't want to..."

He shook his head. "There's no need to apologize. Me and my dad get along fine. He was the one who warned me about his growing influence in the first place."

Rosine tilted her head questioningly.

"You see, he is the Governor of Heimdallr and the first commoner to ever reach such a position. In a way, the Regnitz name already made history." He sighed. "On the one hand, I'm proud of my dad for his accomplishment, but this kind of prestige casts a shadow, whether he wants it or not."

Both her brows rose in understanding. "People approach you based on your fathers reputation, instead of your own merit."

Machias sighed. "Exactly. Odins was quite a smooth experience. Too smooth arguably. I made errors in judgment which should have resulted in serious consequences, like it did with students who committed similar mistakes." He folded his arms. "But all I got was a slap on the wrist."

"I see." She put a finger to her smiling lips. "Then, if I may ask another question?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"Who or what is the ultimate arbiter on what is right or wrong?"

His reflexive answer was to claim the law. But as he felt himself being engulfed by the calm atmosphere of the woman before him, he realized that such an answer wasn't accurate. He agreed much like his father that this nation needed reforms. In other words, he wanted the current laws to change.

What were the implications? Were laws merely an expression of what the legislator considered right or wrong? So if he or any other politician were the ones to change the law, did that make them the ultimate arbiter?

Machias didn't feel comfortable with this conclusion. He didn't think anybody could be trusted with such power.

"I... don't know the answer to your question."

"I see." She tilted her head again. "You are a good and earnest person Machias." She stood up gracefully. "It might be presumptuous of me, but I wish you to stay just the way you are."

His throat became dry. "Thank you?"

"You are welcome. And pleasant dreams."

It took him several seconds to snap out of his daze, the beating of his heart juxtaposed against the silence of the lonely compartment. Well, he had pictured an intimate chat with Rosine to go a little different, but their talk was still nice all things considered. Her aura of calm and tranquility hallowed the very air around them, giving him the feeling of sitting inside a church or confessional.

She would make an excellent sister. Her becoming part of the military almost seemed like a waste.

Machias left his seat and went in the direction of car 3 where the sleeping compartments were. As he was about to leave the current car, he encountered a familiar scene on his right: Rean Schwarzer was sitting together with Major Claire as well as Fie and Elliot. The RMP officer was chatting amicably with the black-haired youth, her smiling demeanor at odds with her fearful moniker. Fie simply watched with her usual apathetic expression while Elliot looked outright uncomfortable. When he looked to his left Machias immediately understood the reason for his classmate's discomfort. There were four other first year cadets in the neighboring compartment.

Three commoners, one noble. All male. Yeah, there were things universal across the social classes indeed.

"Hey, Machias. Nice to see you!"

He turned to the redhead while a cold shiver ran down his back. Seemed like the other four cadets were staring daggers at a certain oblivious guy. Unfortunately, he was standing right in the line of fire. "Evening Elliot. Major Rieveldt, Rean, Fie." He nodded curtly to each person he addressed. For a moment he entertained the thought of greeting the remaining persons, but the tension was thick enough to be cut with a knife.

He also got the impression that the cadets beside him were neither interested in social niceties nor polite rituals at the moment.

"Are you heading for sleep?" Elliot asked with a hopeful tinge in his voice. Even Fie turned towards him with a smidgen of interest.

"Yes, it _is _starting to get late and considering we share one sleeping compartment..."

The redhead nodded a tad too hastily. "Right you are. Coming Fie?"

"Sure."

Machias turned to the black-haired ladykiller. "What about you Rean?"

He scratched his head and glanced at Major Rieveldt, a slightly flustered look on his face. "I think we'll finish our discussion first."

"We will Rean, but after that you should head to bed like your classmates. The exercise resumes tomorrow at 5:30 am."

"Roger, Major Claire. And sorry for keeping you up so long."

"There's no need to apologize. I always enjoy our conversations."

Aaaand that was their cue to leave. "Goodnight," Machias mouthed with Elliot and Fie following close behind. Just when he stepped out of car 4 he saw the other male cadets scrambling to take the freed up seats.

"Phew." Elliot closed his eyes. "Sometimes I wonder whether he's oblivious or simply has thick skin."

Fie wrinkled her nose. "I swear, horny teenagers."

Machias decided that discretion was the better part of valor. If he were asked though, he would state that Rean Schwarzer definitely had thick skin. Even now he held mixed feelings for the adopted noble. But between that slanderous article published in what could only be called a 'gossip magazine' and Rean's helpfulness in introducing him to the cadet committee, he was perfectly willing to accept the black haired youth as the rare kind of noble who didn't had his head up his ass. The way woman seemed to flock to him was a little worrying though. To think he and Alisa Reinford were a couple before...

All three entered their sleeping compartment to find Emma inside. She was already wearing her sleeping clothes, a tasteful purple nightgown that reached her ankles and couldn't quite contain her curves. When she heard them entering, she looked up from a thick book with exceedingly little letters.

"Oh, you are back already?"

Elliot scratched his cheek. "Well, I think it's pretty late all considered. Did we disturb you?"

"Oh no, not at all." She closed the book. "I was just doing some light reading."

_The transformation of Erebonian civil law - a dialectic dissemination._ Machias bit back his reply, but even for someone like him this was most definitely not light reading in any shape or form. And looking at where she put the cat-shaped bookmark, she had already plowed through two-third of the treatise. Machias had never met a reader quite as voracious as Emma Millstein and while he had been all confident and pompous during the start of term, being confronted with her staggering intellect during the last few weeks was starting to intimidate him.

It was only a little, but as the uncontested king of exams at Odins it was still a novel experience.

"So... I guess we should prepare for bed and all." Elliot's discomfort was written all over his face.

Fie rolled her eyes. A moment later she was already stripping out of her cadet uniform.

"A little warning would be appreciated!" Machias shrieked as he felt the heat rising in his cheeks.

"Don't be a wuss!"

Perhaps it was the subtle mockery behind Fie's deadpan voice or the utterly clinical detachment of her movements, but neither he nor Elliot looked away like proper manners dictated. As the layers of clothing were removed one by one, he got an eyeful on slender limbs and a lithe figure being bathed in pale moonlight.

And the scars.

He felt surprise at his lack of surprise. The testament of strife written across her body felt like part of the riddle that was Fie Clausell's history. For a moment he entertained the possibility of the scars being a sign of abuse, but something in her posture, her very demeanor, disabused him from the notion. Besides, as a firearm user he recognized bullet wounds when he saw them and there was only one place a person got those.

A modern battlefield.

Elliot opened his mouth, however Emma shook her head slightly, which silenced him. Machias also swallowed his curiosity, while Fie climbed to the top of the bunk bed above her fellow female classmate.

He felt the tension dissipate. "Let's prepare for bed ourselves, right?"

"Should I turn away?" Emma offered.

"Don't coddle them," the silver haired devil interrupted, her apathetic expression replaced with a predatory smirk that never bode well for whoever it was directed at. "This is all part of military training. No need to be shy."

So even if Emma, bless her heart, looked away, Fie certainly wasn't. This kind of payback, while irksome, was also expected. Machias sighed, shared a commiserate look with his fellow male and began undressing.

The whole affair was over quickly. He glanced over to the silver-haired devil while pulling the sheet over himself, but the expression plastered on her face was the very definition of bored. It was as if she had already seen her fair share of half-naked guys and compared to those past experiences, she found them wanting. Emma turned off the light and after some murmured 'good nights', the compartment fell silent.

Machias closed his eyes, but sleep eluded him despite the late hour, his mind going to strange places. Most of his stray thoughts circled around the various attractive woman he dealt with on a regular basis now. It was strange really. He had considered himself above these things during his time at Odins, far too focused on being the best, rushing through his time at school with iron determination. The day for him to enter the political arena alongside father couldn't arrive early enough back then. However his dad had been a little worried about him sacrificing his youth. He even called him a 'late bloomer' sometimes, although Machias liked to retort that having Patiri as a childhood friend had tainted his perception of girls forever, banishing any idea of actively wooing them.

Perhaps it was this new environment he found himself in, an upset of calcified routines and seemingly proven assumptions. For all intents and purposes, Thors was a detour. After he graduated with honors, the Imperial Academy was all but waiting for him. Their prestigious political courses were the obvious and direct route to advance.

_Remember, young Machias, the straight path is not necessarily the best one. By the goddess, it certainly isn't natural._

It was sometimes hard to tell whether Instructor William Herschel was talking about the matter at hand or his favorite research topic. He taught both history and economics at Odins despite being an astrophysicist by trade. He was also the former director of the Imperial Museum. One of the Empire's few true polymaths, the man's knowledge was impressive in both deepness and breadth. He could easily switch from talking about macro-economy to epistemology and using both as preparation to delve right into political philosophy.

It was arguably Instructor Herschel's subtle influence that nudged him to study law, for Machias learned under the man how the judicative in Erebonia was slowly but surely deteriorating, disrupting the checks and balances established under the Imperial Constitution.

A constitution fashioned by Dreichels the Lionheart himself.

What a coincidence then, to meet his favorite instructor's granddaughter, the current chairwoman of the Cadet Committee, who also proved to be an outstanding individual.

And just like that, his meandering thoughts gravitated right back to attractive women and his inability to ignore them. He tossed under his blanket, trying to find a more comfortable position, while his mind incessantly conjured images of these beauties.

Was this what the Priests at Sunday School called hormones? Thinking back to Fie's snark about horny teenager, Machias had to admit that he squarely belonged there now. He doubted what he felt was love. In fact, he was hesitant to even consider it crushes. When people fell in love, it ought to focus on a single person instead of the emotional confusion he was experiencing.

Though thinking back on cousin Elsa's 'big love', being this devoted to another person involved some dangerous pitfalls.

And she certainly fell hard.

Perhaps he should talk with dad about it, although he was dreading the teasing that was sure to follow. Patiri was completely out of the question. He wasn't even sure whether she had enough of a mind to properly use a phone, what with her focusing every waking moment on cementing her dominance as the queen of delinquents.

Perhaps he could ask one of his classmates for advice? Alan seemed like an obvious choice, but his devotion to Brigid was about as absolute as what he remembered from his cousin. A queasy feeling settled in his stomach, a fear that his friend might judge him for lusting randomly after women.

Though could he really call it random lusting?

Arrrgh! It was all so confusing.

Finally, inspiration struck him: He could ask Rean. The guy was about as nonjudgmental as they came. He also had experience. Machias just needed an opportunity to talk to him in private, away from prying eyes and curious ears.

Yes, it wouldn't do for a third party to know about his worries. Or Aidios beware Mr High Noble Lordship. But he thought himself a good judge of character and Rean struck him as a person who valued and respected discretion.

With his resolution firmed and set, Machias drifted into fitful sleep.

* * *

Laura carried the crate into the supply tent. The inside was bustling with activity, but Alisa kept everything going, directing the other cadets on how the various materials like weapons, sepith, ammunition, EP-capsules, maintenance tools and spare parts needed to be arranged.

The swordswoman went to the temporary supply coordinator. "Alisa, where does this one go?"

"Let me see." She looked at the list. "Okay, the serial number on the crate is OG-2564. These are dedicated marksmen rifle, Reinford model SR-0012-M 'Arbalest'."

She furrowed her brow, then pointed to the far corner on the left. "Put it beside that stack. The neighboring crates should all be filled with spare parts. Check if they are numbered SP-0348 to SP-0355. The part that needs replacement the most on these rifles is the scope."

"Aye, aye ma'am," Laura called with a smile. She had been worried for the Reinford heiress for some time as she struggled to connect with the other Class VII members, but since that 'revelation' last week a major barrier had been broken. Thinking back, Rean tended to shift around the little groups which had crystallized since the start of term. And by doing so, it seemed he unwittingly denied his former girlfriend opportunities to socialize and mingle.

As she put down the weapons crate at the correct spot, she heard a familiar voice shout across the Exercise Camp.

"You call this a goddess-damned supply tent? All I see is a mess that would do two rampaging Rhinociders in heat freaking justice. Get up your asses and arrange this place properly or I'll ask the principal to send you weak-legged landlubbers to the Imperial Navy for your next field exercise. And yours truly will be there to whip you into shape. Chop-chop."

As if on signal, all cadets around Alisa started to work faster. Their makeshift group consisted of members of classes II, III, IV and VII and in the beginning they had a little trouble establishing a clear chain of command. A noble student from class II called Vincent was quick to step forward, though he was willing to defer to Laura as she was from such a prestigious military family. The swordswoman took charge immediately and appointed the Reinford heiress as supply coordinator. There was some initial pushback which she talked down, but at least the other noble student remained supportive. In fact, he seemed more keen on buttering both her and Alisa up. He showered them with untoward praise more flowery than Laura was used to even from some of the foppish suitors she occasionally had to deal with during social gatherings.

Vincent's frolicking ended soon enough as Lieutenant Commander Leuventhal showed herself to be a fearful taskmaster. After bearing witness to several of her colorful... dressing downs, everybody in their group started to come together like the gears of a single well oiled machine.

"Care to explain why the hybrid ammunition has been placed outside, Cadet Sirtis? Has a pom slurped out your brain or how did you forget that gunpowder is worth crap if it gets wet? Put the box inside the tent this instant!"

The quartermaster's voice was much nearer now. It was only a matter of time until their place would also undergo inspection. Laura went out onto the field, the morning sun invigorating her spirit. She walked to car six looking for further supply crates, her steps measured and calm. Despite the LTC's exacting standards, she didn't doubt for a second that the job they did under Alisa's direction would satisfy the demanding woman.

Car six was one empty hall with the seats and partitionings disassembled prior to their departure. Laura had to admit, the work of just moving stuff from one point to another was surprisingly difficult and intricate, requiring impressive amounts of planning and coordination. The lectures held by Major Rieveldt offered a glimpse into the depths of mastery when it came to logistics and Laura was eager to learn as much as she could. Her time at Lokis already drove it home that there was much more to managing the Arseid's territory than merely handing down sword techniques or slaying a monster or two. In fact she realized how father was a little too fixated on the way of the sword, leaving most of the business and accounting work to dear Klaus.

She was loath to consider it, but as the future ruler of Legram she had to face the eventual reality that Klaus wasn't going to be a permanent fixture, always there to pick up the pieces of whatever father and her left behind in their pursuit of swordmastery.

Laura went around looking for a crate filled with radio equipment. Just when she saw what she was looking for, the car door opened. She turned around and found herself facing the one person in Class VII she would rather avoid.

"I...," for a moment, Fie's apathetic expression cracked, showing the vulnerable girl beneath.

The swordswoman folded her arms and sighed. Perhaps it was time to confront the situation head-on instead of evading it, which was unlike her. Well, the white-haired girl's very existence provoked reactions from herself that she was unfamiliar with.

Uncomfortably so.

"I dreamed of smoke and gunfire, torn up corpses and bloody battlefields. I dreamed of mines and grenades blasting people to shreds. There was the thrill of laying down bullet hails, the surge of adrenaline while evading artillery shells, the satisfaction of cutting into the flesh of enemies." She breathed in deeply, hoping that her voice stayed firm. "These pictures, these memories, sensations... were they just a figment of my imagination?"

"Never been to Legram. But I dreamed of a wide lake the color of Sapphirl, a castle resting atop a cliff. The gentle bustle of happy villagers, statues made of stone showing warriors kneeling before a woman in armor." She tilted her head. "Figments of my imagination?"

Laura closed her eyes. So the ARCUS phenomenon went both ways. She should have expected it. Connecting the minds of people to facilitate battle coordination sounded good on paper. Even after she stopped any combat link formation with Fie three weeks ago, she hadn't experienced the intense feeling of oneness with any other classmate since. Yes, oneness. The subtle, gradual merging of minds, though she wasn't completely sure about her theory. It wasn't until Rean correctly pointed out absolutely fundamental safety measures placed upon a duel with unleashed life-weapons that she received the inkling of something wrong within her.

Father had always schooled her on the proper place and time to use power, the importance of a sword that _stayed_ in its sheath. Only in hindsight did she realize how she disregarded his teachings after the humiliating defeat at the hands of Sara Valestein. She let an overblown sense of pride and competition stir up aggression inside her, which could have led to serious lapses in judgment down the road, all the while bonding with the white haired girl about 'showing up' their combat instructor in some future battle.

"I went to instructor Sara three weeks ago and talked about the risk of the combat link altering my personality and mind. She then send me to Colonel Beatrix who took my concerns very seriously." Laura rubbed her forehead in frustration. "I had to tell my experiences several times to craft a proper report for Reinford. Guess there is a legit reason to consider the ARCUS a prototype."

"I see. You figured it out?" Fie whispered.

"Your past occupation? Child soldier seems most likely, though I cannot fathom the circumstances of someone younger than me experiencing... that kind of carnage."

"Experiencing and _liking_ it. Isn't this what really disturbs you, Laura?"

How easily she was seen through. "I cannot deny it."

"Ever heard of Zephyr?"

One of the strongest and most infamous Jaeger corps in Western Zemuria, even rivaling the detestable Red Constellation. She grimaced as several puzzle pieces fell together to form one nasty picture.

"I guess that answers my question." Fie closed her eyes.

Laura exhaled. "One of the creeds of the Arseid School is to vanquish monsters who prey on people."

The silver haired girl balled her fists, her voice turning frosty. "So that's what I am now? A monster?"

"Are reports of Jaegers plundering and destroying remote villages mere hearsay then? Rumors without basis?"

"Those are failed Jaegers. Drop-outs who didn't make the cut."

"I fail to see the difference."

Fie swallowed. "I guess you do." She turned on her heel and left.

The tension disappeared slowly and it was only then that Laura realized how her body was coiled like a spring, ready to leap into action.

"That could have gone better."

* * *

When Laura returned from her trip to car six, LTC Leuventhal was almost finished with her inspection. As she put down the radio equipment, she heard the navy officer mutter a brusque 'good job', before she hurried away.

Every cadet beside her breathed out in relief.

"That woman is so scary."

"I was sure she would order us to redo everything."

"Your radiant guidance has helped us brave this most hazardous of challenges, Lady Reinford."

"What are you babbling about, Florald? This was a group effort!"

"Shouldn't you be more respectful?"

Alisa walked beside her which helped blocking out the chatter. "Laura, are you alright?"

"Yes," she lied. "Just a little distracted."

The Reinford heiress frowned. "If you say so. Well, I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but the radio equipment is for Class VII, so you'll have to carry it again. LTC Leuventhal organized a hauling vehicle and the crate is going there."

"Are we also going to transport weapons and ammunition?"

Alisa nodded. "And the Sepith we got from requisition. It almost seems like we are preparing to fight a war."

"While I prefer to rely only on my personal weapons, standard issue firearms or grenades do have a place on the battlefield. Learning their usage will even help me with my sword training, for I can only find ways to counter these weapons, if I understand their strength and weaknesses."

The blonde chuckled. "Did somebody ever tell you that you have a one-track mind?"

Laura cracked a smiled. "Are you teasing me?"

"Just being honest. Let's go."

They arrived in the middle of the exercise camp only to catch Instructor Sara and Major Neithardt in the middle of a debate.

"I'm coming along on Class VII's Field Study missions, First Lieutenant Valestein, and the decision is final."

"What. Don't trust little old me?"

The Major pinched the bridge of his nose. "I trust you alright Valestein. In fact, I trust you to use every opportunity trying to corrupt our cadets with your drinking habits. I trust you to treat military discipline as an afterthought in the best case and a mockery in the worst. I trust your eccentricities to produce raised eyebrows if we are lucky. However I rather expect the Thors name to be dragged through the mud instead."

"Ohhh, didn't know you cared. But just to remind you, _major, _as a proper member of the Imperial Army, you traipsing around a city with so many nobles is as subtle as a... what did the LTC call it? A Rhinocider in a china shop? If you need to visit Dreknor Fortress that much to cure your withdrawal from macho-military-displays, just say so, but don't use Class VII's Field Study as pretense."

Neithardt's voice became louder and even some of the other instructors were turning their heads. "For your information Valestein, Saint-Arkh is not Bareahard. Veteran Affairs is neutral ground like Thors and extends its services to all members of the military. And you know as well that the General Staff Office only allowed somebody of your background to teach because of a quid pro quo."

Sara sneered. "The lectures I held are more than enough to fulfill my part of the obligations. I gave the _vaunted_ military insight into bracer know-how. Know-how that you big burly men were feeling too prissy about to develop by yourself. So do your job, major, unpack the paperwork and integrate it all into your oh so proper doctrines. Class VII is _my_ project though, backed by you-know-who, so I don't need an Imperial Watchdog yapping at my heels."

Neithardts expression became as stony as carved marble. "Then I'm glad to inform you, _first-lieutenant_, that I won't do any yapping. However, I am sure to be watching. And don't think that invoking _his_ personage will allow you to flaunt regulations or the chain of command at your whim. The order was handed down from the GSO through Brigadier General Gneisenau. Deal with it."

Laura looked at Alisa, but her classmate seemed as clueless as her in how to make the two instructors stop their argument. The other members of Class VII gathered around the hauling vehicle albeit tentatively. Just as instructor Sara was about to launch another tirade, a female voice cut in.

"The Purple Lightning and Neithardt the Mighty fighting in public. The free spirit of a Bracer pitted against unyielding military discipline. A clash of contradictions, or is this just the prelude to suppressed emotions brewing beneath?"

The major palmed his face, while the tension evaporated like morning mist. Laura turned to the speaker and saw a lithe woman with reddish hair that turned pink depending on the light. She wore the uniform of a commoner and was furiously scribbling on a simple notebook.

"Cadet Sterling," the Erebonian Officer ground out, "I ask you to refrain from making untoward insinuations and putting them in that magazine of yours."

"Besides, didn't you quit the newspaper club, Miss former club president?" Sara remarked.

Her pencil stopped moving. She then put away her writing utensils with a theatrical flourish. "Ah, my bad. I forgot I already quit. Guess old habits die hard."

Laura blinked. Newspaper club president? Did they actually mean...

"Wait a moment!" Machias called out, "Are you saying that you are the one responsible for that school tabloid?"

"I used to be responsible until last week, but yeah, pretty much. Chief editor, layout design, proof reading, all done by yours truly." She smirked, stepped forward and performed a lazy salute. "Let me introduce myself: Claire Sterling, second year. I'm a Liberlian exchange student and former president of the newspaper club. I specialize in radio- and communications technology and will serve as operator for Class VII's Field Studies. I look forward to working with you lot."

An exchange student? Judging by the curious stares of her classmates she wasn't the only one intrigued by this surprising addition. Guess the radio equipment she was carrying was actually for her. After more greetings were exchanged, Laura along with Rean and Elliot helped Alisa in securing all their equipment to the vehicle, while both their instructors hashed out an agreement now that tempers weren't flaring anymore.

According to their mission program, their whole group would escort the transporter on foot to Saint-Arkh with Alisa driving the orbal hauler. Because the Excercise Camp was about 45 selge offside the nearest main road with nothing but untamed grassland in-between, there was a high chance of monster encounters. As such, almost everybody were checking and re-checking their equipment.

Laura put on her armored long-coat and strapped the Zweihaender to her back. She then took out a pistol from their requisitioned weapons stack. A Reinford 'Hengst' model, the very definition of standard issue. Semiautomatic and orbally powered, the force of the shots was adjustable across seven levels. The bore was 0.8 rege with a capacity of 21 rounds. Easy to use and maintain, it was the perfect firearm for those who didn't wish to tinker with them.

After holstering the pistol, she also strapped three flashbangs to her bandolier, before finally re-arranging her ARCUS. She paused a little to think about a fitting configuration, but in the end decided to keep it simple - mainly body amplification Quartz for orbal attunement. Carnelia for strength, Amberl for hardiness, Sapphirl for endurance and Esmelas for dashing speed. She also added Argem for more accurate perception as well as two modular art quartz, namely the La Crest defensive spell and a Teara. It was a shame the ARCUS didn't allow for Quartz Synchronization like the tactical orbments from Epstein. Instructor Valestein clarified this on their second day, but it was Alisa who explained the reasons behind it.

Seemed like there was a lot going on beneath the surface of this experimental class. She glanced to the exchange student who happened to carry the same name as the RMP major and wondered if her sudden addition was another sign of things playing out behind the scenes. Looking around, most of her classmates as well as the instructors were ready. She noted with surprise how Major Neithardt strapped a vicious looking shotgun to his hip, alongside his traditional military saber. Fie was keeping her distance and Alisa was familiarizing herself with the vehicle controls.

She saw Rean starting a conversation with the strange second year, their demeanor showing them to be acquaintances at the very least. Interesting. She was aware of his peculiar off-hour activities and how those allowed him to meet a multitude of people. In fact, she humored the thought of joining him on occasion, for the errands he did reminded her of the odd jobs performed by bracers. Legram was one of the few territories in the Empire with a functioning Guild House and father always told her to help out as a supplement to sword training.

Curiosity got the better of Laura and she walked towards the unusual pair.

"... going to be waiting at Cathedral Square? Got it, though I hope he's worth the bother."

Rean stroked his chin. "He may need a firm hand to guide him, but I can vouch for the quality of his pictures. As long as he's properly motivated, he's going to turn in excellent results."

Cadet Sterling put a hand on her cheek. "I like excellent results. However, I've also talked with Towa and she elaborated on the dubious basis of his 'motivation'." She raised both her hands and wiggled demonstratively with her index fingers to emphasize the word. "I want him to shoot where I point, not where his fancies take him."

"Well, you might spur him on by promising to pose for his... collection. I don't think he has photographed a reporter yet."

"I still have a long way to go before I can claim to be a true reporter. But you telling me to seduce him with my womanly viles? How very cunning and manipulative of you, Rean. I pegged you for a more straight-laced guy."

He scratched his head. "I was proposing a give and take. His pictures have never been indecent, even before I confronted him and well... pounded it into his head to ask for permission before shooting." He folded his arms. "And after running errands for about two years, one learns how to maneuver around all kinds of client eccentricity to get the job done."

Cadet Sterling chuckled. "You sound like you are more at home in the service industry instead of the military." Both her and Rean turned their heads to acknowledge Laura, their expressions expectant.

"One of the army's credo is that we live to serve, so I don't think Rean's commendable attitude is that out of place." Laura performed a small bow towards the second year, hand in front of her chest. "I am Laura S. Arseid. I have been remiss in greeting you personally until now, but it reassures me to know that we'll have an experienced operator backing us up in the field."

"Wow, you can lay off with the formality. I'm just a random gal from Liberl, no need to treat me like some noblewoman. However nice to meet you, too, Ms Lady Knight."

Laura blinked. She wasn't quite sure what to make of the nickname. Were all Liberlians so easy-going? The woman's behavior reminded her of Crow, but she didn't think it wise to use the second year's blasé attitude as any kind of baseline to appraise other people.

Speaking of the devil, Angelica and Crow appeared in front of their group, both already wearing their combat fatigues.

"Hey, looks like you are all raring to go," Crow noted.

"Claire, please hold back on your teasing." Angelica drawled. "These are my dear underclassmen chickees and they aren't yet used to your unique directness."

Cadet Sterling put an index finger to her lips, expression mischievous. "You know Angelica, you are the last person who should lecture somebody else on their self-control."

The Rogner heir clutched her chest theatrically. "Oh, an arrow, my heart. Your tongue is as deliciously sharp as ever."

The pinkette shrugged helplessly while rolling her eyes.

"Whatever," Crow looked at Angelica with poorly concealed exasperation. "Just wanted to see you guys off. Have fun and don't do anything I wouldn't."

"So are you basically telling us to do anything we want?" Elliot asked. "I mean, there's pretty much nothing you wouldn't do."

"Oh Big E!" The second year wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. "You are learning to sass. To think you've grown so much. Old Crow is feeling proud."

"Hate to break up the merriment, but Class VII is on a schedule and so are you." Instructor Sara interjected. "Especially because Mr Mighty here," she pointed with her thump at Major Neithardt, "Is dead set on being an... observer."

Both second years said their goodbyes and left shorty after. Meanwhile, Sara Valestein placed herself in front of them, her gaze for once dead serious.

"Okay, buckle up kids. We are setting out for Saint-Arkh. Once we leave the Exercise Camp we have 46 selge of flat grassland to traverse until we reach the safety of the main road." The instructor folded her arms. "As you know, orbal engines are big attractors for monsters looking out for an easy snack. As such I expect all of you to treat this as an escort mission with you running protective duty. You can expect grassland poms, hyaenadons as well as vampscamps, so fire and earth arts are the way to go. If we are really unlucky, we might even provoke a rhinocider, so I hope you have prepared armor piercing ammunition." She started to pace. "I want a diamond shield formation and I ask you to hold nothing back if a rhinocider does approach. Their stampede is perfectly capable of flipping around a light vehicle like the one Alisa is driving. In other words, you are holding your classmate's life in your hands. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes ma'am!"

"Good. The time is 8:30 am. Class VII and auxiliary - moving out!"

* * *

The beginning of their escort duty was pretty unremarkable. Sure, there was a pack of hyaenadons trying their luck in vain and the occasional vampscamp that poked out of the ground, only to find itself eradicated with prejudice. The poms didn't even dare to approach, so Rean and his classmates soon relaxed their vigilance. He was protecting the rear end of the formation along with Laura and Machias. He had his Hengst pistol at the ready instead of the tachi. The monsters they had encountered were even weaker than the ones during the orienteering exercise, so he thought it prudent to dust off his shooting skills. While Instructor Sara remained tight-lipped about the exact content of their Field Study, he had a sneaking suspicion what they were going to involve.

And if he correctly anticipated their soon-to-be-revealed tasks, his tachi might end up being unfeasible while running around the Old Capital.

Most Erebonians didn't know about eastern propriety. How different blade types and the way they were worn conveyed status, battle readiness or a willingness to talk peacefully. There was a difference whether a sheathed blade was carried with the edge facing up or down, although the tachi was so long that carrying the edge upward prevented any kind of iaido technique. Eastern culture called it a weapon of war, a blade whose only proper place was the battlefield. As such, it was worn with the edge facing downward and bringing it during any kind of civilian interaction was considered a serious breach of etiquette, especially in public.

Of course people in the Empire would be blind to these nuances. However a 138 rege long blade was still a 138 rege long blade. A beautiful weapon to be sure, but still a statement that he meant business, a promise of violence. Wearing the official Thors uniform might ease some tension, but he wasn't going to count on mere reputation when operating in a city housing dignitaries domestic and foreign. There were also the swathes of Provincial Army Soldiers to consider.

On a practical level, a tachi often ended up being an impediment in the tight confines of an urban environment. Doubly so when fighting inside a building, something he learned the hard way. Unfortunately Rean broke his 'civilian' sword at the tail end of his second year at Baldurs, a trusty kodachi that could be hidden beneath a long-coat. Despite Master Ka-Fai being aware of the loss, the man had yet to send him a replacement, so right now he was stuck with a standard issue pistol as his backup weapon.

Rean felt something crawl up his neck and turned, only to find Machias staring at him and becoming flustered at being found out.

"Something the matter?"

His bespectacled classmate cleared his throat. "Sorry, it's nothing really." He glanced at Laura and then sighed.

The black-haired swordsman was sure there was more than 'nothing' here, but if Machias was unwilling to talk the polite thing to do was wait.

He scanned the grassland again, but aside from the Ki of his classmates and instructors, he didn't feel any overt life sign, much less hostile ones.

"Say Rean?"

He turned to Laura. "Can I do something for you?"

She smiled. "It's a little embarrassing to admit, but due to the bustle last week, I failed to do research on our Field Study location. I've heard about Saint-Arkh of course and that it was Erebonia's capital for some time due to a cataclysm in Heimdallr. But aside from that my history knowledge is woefully lacking."

Rean stroked his chin. "This is pretty old history to be honest, so even current research isn't clear on a lot of things. Fact is that Emperor Astorius II was forced to flee Old Heimdallr due to a very special monster roaming there. There's a lot of debate on what it was exactly, but scholars agree that it's the basis of the folklore surrounding Vampires or the concept of the Living Dead."

Laura arched an eyebrow. "I might have heard something similar in Sunday School."

He chuckled. "Yeah, here in Erebonia they like reading the folklore to scare children. But to get back to Emperor Astorius II. He went and chose the current Saint-Arkh as capital in the year 270, although it was merely an important trading hub back then, much like Celdic today. As you know, both Kreuzen and Sutherland are called Erebonia's Big Granaries. Archaeological diggings suggest that the land around Saint-Arkh was in fact the first area in Erebos, Erebonia's old name, that was extensively used for agriculture. It might have been one reason the Emperor decided to settle here. Back then wheat was a centralized currency due to the fact that the fractured lords in Erebos all minted their own coins."

"Wait, wheat as a currency?"

Rean scratched his head. "Well, don't ask me how this was integrated into Dark Age economics. Towa might know a thing or two, but as I said, this is old history. Government documents from that time always used macon of wheat as a means to assess the potential income of a fiefdom as well as their precedence at the Imperial Court." He saw her tilted head. "Ah sorry, macon is an obsolete measurement of volume, estimated to be about 0.22 cubic arge in modern metric."

Laura nodded slowly. "This is a lot to take in, but your history knowledge is impressive as always. So when was Heimdallr reclaimed?"

"A century later by Emperor Hector himself, grandson of Astorius II." Rean saw her eyes lit up in recognition. "You probably know about his knights."

"The Twelve Paladins. Their mettle and bravery were second to none." She smiled mischievously. "That is until the Eisenritter claimed the title of Erebonia's strongest Knight Order during the War of the Lions."

He couldn't help but laugh. "You are a fan?"

The swordswoman blushed prettily. "You could say that."

They walked along in companionable silence, while the Southern Main Road appeared on the horizon. Rean focused his senses again. He expected to come up with nothing, but this time a shiver ran down his spine. He looked to his left side.

"Something is coming," Gaius warned.

He saw out of the corner of his eye how Fie took out a marksman rifle plus Septium modded ammunition. Amberl coated armor piercing rounds? The silver haired girl jumped on top the hauling vehicle and went into a prone position, looking through the scope of her firearm.

"Two rhinociders at nine o'clock, distance 550 arge."

"Okay kids, weapons out!" Sara ordered. "Don't break formation yet and assess the surrounding. I don't want us to end up flanked." Their instructor looked up to her protege. "Can you snipe them down?"

"My aim isn't that good. I can only do precision shots at 400 arge... which is now."

Rean could feel the vibration on the ground. He then saw a streak of blue and brown leave the barrel. The stampeding monster on the right staggered, but seconds later it shook off the wound it had no doubt suffered. Elliot, Jusis and Emma were preparing protective arts, while Gaius took out his composite bow. Rean glanced to Laura who had her Zweihaender drawn.

Another gun report aimed at the same rhinocider. It staggered again, though when it recovered, it's charge became significantly slower. Rean holstered his pistol and drew the tachi. He saw Machias fiddling with his assault rifle, his breathing labored as if he was suppressing a panic attack. Laura stepped beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Machias, fear is a normal reaction in this situation." She pronounced every word and leaned towards him, taking care not to stand in his line of fire, so that he could look her in the eye.

"I... sorry, I..."

"Count with me until two and then breathe deeply."

Another shot. This time the wounded rhinocider struggled to get up, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

That still left another one charging straight at them, its massive silhouette becoming bigger by the second. Rean doubted that Fie had enough time to take out that one, too. The arts users had finished their defensive spells which they mainly directed at the orbal hauler. The cyan-blue of Epstein-Kowalski radiation lit up again as Elliot, Jusis and Emma focused on the second rhinocider.

"Rean, please form a combat link with me." The swordsman turned to Laura who was apparently finished with calming down Machias. His classmate looked much steadier on his feet and joined the arts users with his casting, his assault rifle at the ready.

Fie calmly put the fourth bullet into her mark, not bothering with the other monster. Rean concentrated on his ARCUS and a moment later, the not-quite-mental link slipped into consciousness. In a flash, he understood her plan. Seemed like this wasn't the first time the swordswoman dealt with these walking tanks.

"Friends," Laura declared, "after you initial spell volley, I ask you to stay your hand. Rean and I will follow up on your offensive to put the beast down." She smiled. "We don't want to be subjected to any friendly fire, do we Rean?"

The others nodded their assent and sent ice and lightning at the monster that was now a mere thirty arge away from the hauler. To his relief, Alisa had left the vehicle and was peppering the monster with flaming arrows along with Gaius whose arrows were wreathed in green turbulence. Both archers shot their projectiles in an arc much like artillery bombardment, meaning that he and Laura wouldn't have to worry about friendly fire until they reached melee range. Rean dashed forward with Laura in the lead, both their blades trailing behind them. The rhinocider was still disoriented from the arts volley as well as the arrows, but as soon as it saw the female knight charging, the beast counter-charged.

The movement of her blade was so mesmerizing that Rean almost forgot his own role in their team up. It was the same kind of expert deflection she used against the gargoyle, a concerted spinning motion between body and blade to divert an overwhelming force. The gigantic bulk of the rhinocider rolled off her gentle slash like rainwater from a lotus petal.

Laura side-stepped, revealing the looming silhouette of the armored monster in its full, intimidating glory. Rean stilled the fear gripping his heart, calming his mind to the likeness of a lake surface.

_Second Form, Black Thunder._

He lowered his body mid-charge, passing beside the diverted monster in such proximity that he could almost picture its armored spikes ripping him open.

He lowered himself even further without losing speed, his body almost prone to the ground with mere rege separating him from kissing the grass, passing the flank of the beast...

all the while positioned low enough that his blade easily slipped beneath the armor to cut at its legs. The foreleg on its right flank was merely slashed, but the hindleg was cut at the tendon as Rean swerved sharply at the end of his dashing technique.

The rhinocider cried out in pain, rising its head in an involuntary movement of suffering and thus revealing it's unarmored throat which was usually close to the ground.

It was a vulnerability that lasted only the fraction of a second, but Laura had already positioned herself to take maximum advantage. She started from a low crouch to perform a beautiful rising slash, her Zweihaender biting deep into the monster's neck, severing carotid artery, windpipe and esophagus in one fell swoop.

It was a testament to the rhinocider's ridiculous endurance that it mustered the strength for one last desperate rush while Laura was regaining her footing.

Rean was having none of it.

He performed another Black Thunder, diving across the beast's left flank from behind, severing the tendons on its other legs. With three appendages hamstrung, the rhinocider was effectively paralyzed, the blood loss finally becoming too much as it collapsed, crushed and suffocated beneath the weight of its own body mass.

The swordsman wiped the blood from his blade and looked around. The other rhinocider laid about thirty arge behind him, apparently killed by Fie's armor piercing shots. He breathed out and relaxed. Seemed like they made it.

He saw Laura mount the defeated rhinocider. She pressed a combat boot against an armor plate at the monster's neck, revealing a narrow patch of skin. The thrust of her blade was quick and merciless, stabbing right where the spine connected to the brain. A moment later all life signs stopped. She jumped down and wiped her weapon.

"A clean death?"

The swordswoman closed her eyes. "Suffocating in its own blood is a cruel and slow way to die. As Instructor Sara taught us, these beasts have a redundant circulatory system. It could have taken up to an hour until it finally succumbed to the wounds we inflicted."

"You have killed them before."

"During my stints as a temporary bracer assistant. I guess this was easy to grasp through the ARCUS link."

Rean nodded. He didn't dare say more, for there were other things he perceived. Much less concrete - flickering sensations and flashes of emotion. All he could tell was that despite her strong front, Laura was deeply bothered by something.

He raised his fist and held it front of her. The blue haired beauty tilted her head. "Rean?"

Okay, this was awkward. "You don't know about fistbumps?"

Laura leaned slightly forward and looked at his fist like he was presenting her some exotic specimen. "I have heard of this... activity? I think a group of young boys in Legram who call themselves the Junior Eisenritter do this gesture among themselves."

"Just raise your hand like I'm doing right now." She complied and he playfully prodded her fist with his own. "That was awesome teamwork. Thank you, Laura."

A smile blossomed on her face that truly reached her eyes, not the reassuring smile she used to put others at ease. Rean nodded. He might not be able to do much, but he could at least make her truly smile to support her through the day. He was making peace with the fact that he was powerless in the grand scheme of things, but he would never stop helping people whenever he could.

They returned to their convoy. Most of their classmates were preparing to move out again, while Cadet Claire was scribbling in her notebook. Seemed like the second year didn't involve herself in the fight like the instructors. Alisa planted herself in front of him, looking him up and down. "Are you okay, Rean?"

He couldn't help but be moved by her worry. "I'm fine, Alisa."

"And here are our other monster slayers." Instructor Sara grinned. "Not quite how I would dispatch a beast like that, but I can't deny the results. But don't let it get to your head. The day is still long and over-confidence is the most subtle killer on the battlefield."

Major Neithardt harrumphed. "To think there would come a day when I have to agree with you."

Machias stepped forward. "Reminds me again to never challenge you two to a fight." He bowed. "Thank you Laura, for helping me get my bearings and sorry that I froze up."

"Cadet Regnitz," Neithardt called out. "Panicking during a life-combat situation can happen to the best of us. The most important thing is that you struggled through it, that you were mature enough to accept help when you needed it and that you contributed. You have nothing to be sorry for in my opinion."

"Yeah, Christoph... sorry, I mean Major Neithardt is totally right about this." Elliot added. "My knees were shaking the whole time, too, but I somehow made myself act."

Gaius put a hand on Machias shoulder. "There is this saying that true bravery is overcoming fear. If we go by that metric, you have proven yourself very brave indeed."

Machias looked around helplessly, before his shoulders sagged. Then a chuckle escaped his lips. "Man, you people are just total saps, but thank you, really."

Jusis sighed sardonically. "How about you accept your classmates kindness with some grace, Regnitz? This kind of overeager masculinity shows that beneath your sophisticated verbiage you are someone who grew up among the rough and tumble."

"Stuff it, Mr Lordship! Who asked your opinion anyway?"

"And before you two lovebirds engage in another one of your spats, let's move on." Sara clapped her hands. "The longer we idle, the more likely we attract additional rhinociders." She gave Jusis and Machias a half-lidded stare. "Thouuugh if you are willing to deal with the beasts by yourselves, I'll gladly allow you to continue your bickering. Deal?"

Jusis gulped. "No deal instructor. We'll move along."

"That's what I like to hear."

Their procession crossed the last patch of untamed grassland without further incident. Once they arrived at the main road, they started to make excellent time. It was just a little after 10 am when Class VII arrived in front of the destination of their first Field Study. Their gazes were drawn to the city wall looming over them in its majesty. Old buildings peeked through, their architectonic style reminiscent of a bygone era. The city guard waved them through without much fuss and soon enough, they were all drinking in the sight of a city that was once said to be of the purest white.

* * *

**Additional notes**

**Iaido**: The art of sword drawing.

**Kodachi: **Can be literally translated as the 'little tachi'. A swordtype that is thought to be a companion weapon to the tachi, though historical sources rarely show both weapons worn together, which is in stark contrast to the Katana and Wakizashi.

**Historical notes: **The bit about wheat being a currency is not without precedent in real life history. Japanese feudal society used so called koku (an obsolete unit for volume) of rice to assess the magnitude of a feudal domain. Furthermore, samurais were sometimes paid stipends based on koku of rice instead of a salary.

The bit about the Twelve Paladins isn't canon at all. But given the tidbits we learn about Emperor Hector in CS3, I couldn't resist the temptation of making him into Zemurian Charlemagne. Besides, I doubt the Eisenritter are the only badass knight order in Erebonia, given the country's long and bloody history.

**Black Thunder:** The Craft isn't something I pulled out of nowhere. Arios McLaine's ultimate S-Craft in Ao no Kiseki is called Black Emperor and the animation involves a lot of thunderbolts. The man is also a master of the Second Form. Consider Rean's version to be a very tame utilization of the real deal.


	10. City of Parallel Justice Saint-Arkh II

**A/N: And finally, the 100,000 word count is broken. A massive thanks to all the new followers and favorites as well as the reviews. That has been quite a large influx following last chapter. Special thanks to JohnJoestar17 and Classic Mecraphone for their enthusiastic reviews - Apex85 and Kuman for the inspiring discussions.  
**

**To address a point that came up in the reviews: yes, Cadet Claire is indeed the little rumor-hunting girl from Rolent all grown up. I cheated a bit with her age, but sometimes an author falls to temptation and plays favorite with a character. **

**Edit: There's a retroactive edit to chapter 8. In this chapter Saint-Arkh's military academy is called Forsetis, while it's called Freyas in chapter 8. Because Forsetis is a more fitting name given the theme of the Field Study and Saint-Arkh as a whole, the name Freyas will be corrected and the name given to Ordis' yet to be mentioned military academy. Also, another thanks to bissek from the spacebattle forum, who pointed out that the Old Government District should have soldiers from the Provincial and Imperial Armies. JohnJoestar17 also pointed out that higher ranked officers don't salute the lower ranks (a scene from chapter 4) except in special circumstances. Both points have been corrected.**

**And stay safe folks!**

* * *

**Chapter 10 - City of Parallel Justice Saint-Arkh II**

Elliot walked through Saint-Arkh in a half-daze with the massive cathedral as a backdrop. The streets were narrower and more winded than what he was used to, so very unlike the massive scale of everything that was Heimdallr. Cobblestone instead of paved sidewalks and nary a orbal car to be seen, let alone tracks for the tram-system.

That didn't mean the city wasn't bustling with life - on the contrary. Pedestrians streamed around the white grey buildings that looked like they were sculptured instead of built, lacking the utilitarian style of the capital's brick houses. He also watched in amazement as people rode what Emma told them were bicycles, their frames seemingly too delicate to support one person.

Elliot even saw bicyclists carrying a second person on occasion. Either a mother who drove with her child or guys with a girl sitting on the backrest, looking for all intents and purposes like couples. Alisa was enraptured by these two-wheeled vehicles, especially the moment she heard they didn't require orbal energy. Apparently, a person only needed a little practice to maintain balance and muscle power to move them.

Elliot wondered why bicycles weren't used in the capital. They might be slower than cars on paper, but when the traffic congestion were factored in they seemed like a reasonable and cheap alternative to get around. And without being bound to the schedule of the City Tram to boot.

What delighted him most though was the music resounding from every corner. A violinist standing in front of a boutique, playing Telemann's 7th sonata in g-minor. A lutist sitting at an outdoor cafe, stringing a rendition of the 'Whereabouts of Light' to an adoring audience. Elliot was surprised that the song seemed not only well-known here in the province, but was even the subject of different interpretations.

Musicians weren't the only kind of artists populating the streets. Painters could be seen on every corner. A woman in her twenties even offered to do portraits of whichever passerby scratched her fancy, a row of black-white sketches a testament to her skill. Gaius of all people caught her interest, her behavior short of outright gushing as she literally begged him to stand as a model.

He politely but firmly refused, telling her that he was on a schedule as part of a military field study. To their collective surprise the female artist started to swoon, murmuring something about Gaius being 'so dreamy' and 'military just like General Bardias'. Elliot wasn't familiar with the name, but all nobles in Class VII perked up when they heard it. So a high ranking officer in the Provincial Army? His curiosity was piqued.

"Look at that!" Instructor Sara spoke up. "Seems like Class VII has another lady killer in the making."

Gaius endured the teasing with grace. "If we are permitted some time to rest, I might take her up on the offer. In exchange she can give me some pointers about how to draw with charcoal."

Jusis sighed. "Even if you enjoy a fair amount of local popularity through association, Gaius, I would caution you not to woo the ladies here frivolously. The woman before has the bearing of nobility. From the making of the clothes and jewelry she wore, I judge her to be at least the daughter of a Viscount, if not an earl."

Elliot saw how Machias fixed the Albarea heir with a dirty look. "Trust his Lordship to notice crap like that," he whispered.

The Nord student laughed. "Thanks for the concern, Jusis. But there isn't any danger of that happening. I am, after all, engaged."

"You are what?" Elliot spluttered. Other Class VII members followed with similar reactions.

"The actual term is _trahejev_, but the idea of engagement is the closest I can come up with for Erebonian culture." His smile was as guileless as ever. "There are different nuances, but we do need to continue, don't we?"

"Don't think you can drop such a bombshell on us and run away from giving us a good explanation," Alisa called out from inside the hauling vehicle.

"Ms Reinford has the right of it," Cadet Sterling added. "This sounds like something that could give readers a fresh perspective on Nord Culture. Care for an interview later?"

"Claire, for a moment you actually sounded like a respectable reporter," Sara drawled. "Still, didn't you quit the whole newsflash gig?"

"I quit the tabloid, instructor."

Major Neithardt sighed. "This doesn't bode well."

Rean scratched his head. "Wonder who the other lady killer is supposed to be?"

Elliot glanced at the black haired swordsman. Was he serious?

They continued their trek through the city. "You don't seem to like Cadet Claire very much, Christoph." Since the start of term, the major had agreed on Elliot calling him by his given name if it was just a talk between the two of them. Their situation right now barely qualified, but he knew that dad's subordinate had a soft spot for him.

And after all the family visits, it simply felt wrong to feign formality for the sake of it.

"Sterling?"

Elliot nodded.

He sighed gustily. "She frustrates me. As a communications officer she is easily one of the most talented cadets I ever had the pleasure of teaching. If it weren't for her nationality, the GSO or the RMP would most likely roll out the read carpet to recruit her."

"She is that good?"

"Frighteningly so. But she spent the rest of her time with that tabloid trash and just as circulation is supposed to increase, she quits the whole thing. She's planning something."

"And that is a bad thing why?"

Christoph froze up, a tick Elliot recognized. The major always did it when he caught himself revealing more than he should. Sometimes dad even reprimanded him for that.

"This stays between the two of us." Christoph whispered. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can you guarantee that whatever you hear for the next minutes, you absolutely keep to yourself?"

Elliot nodded but he had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that he wasn't going to like what came next.

"Cadet Sterling is under observation by Internal Security," he muttered. "So is Emma Millstein."

He had to suppress his shock. Luckily, his classmates were all keeping their distance. As the son of a Lieutenant General he was aware of Internal Security - full name Office of Internal and Command Security. It was an agency within the Imperial Army that focused on counter-intelligence. They spied on their own soldiers to root out foreign spies or internal leaks. The General Staff Office were the ones to oversee them in contrast to the Imperial Intelligence Agency that only answered to Chancellor Giliath Osborne.

"Okay, Christoph," he whispered back. "I can understand them keeping an eye on the Liberlian exchange student, although I think this goes overboard. But why in Aidios name would they suspect Emma?"

"Because she has five university degrees at the age of eighteen."

Wow. This sounded pretty unbelievable. However, Emma was pretty much a genius when it came to academics. "So she undertook so many courses after she finished Sunday School?"

Christoph shook his head. "Not at all. She appeared out of nowhere and simply took the final university exams for orbal physics, chemistry, biology, linguistics and history. She passed them all."

Elliot's mind screeched to a halt. "This is..."

"Yes."

Both of them didn't utter a word for several painful moments, the bright mood of the city barely able to clear the fog inside his mind. Elliot closed his eyes and breathed deeply, a ritual he mastered to counter stage fright. The anxiety he felt abated somewhat and he finally found it in him to formulate proper thoughts again.

"You know, despite all this I am still going to trust Emma in the future," he declared. "The ties between my classmates are still fragile at points."

Machias and Jusis' continued arguments came to mind. Or Laura and Fie's unnatural distance lately. He refused to become another weak point which could cause the tentative bonds in Class VII to fracture.

Christoph sighed. "Sorry Elliot. I just..." He shook his head. "Look at me, violating army regulations. The camaraderie between fellow soldiers is one of the most important things in military life. Undermining the trust between cadets, burdening you with this knowledge. I..."

"You were just worried about me, right?"

"This doesn't excuse my breach of information discipline. And it didn't provide any benefit for you. On the contrary."

Elliot shook his head. "It was during my second year in Odins when dad talked about the contradictions between an army man and a family man. How he managed to keep the two aspects of his life separate." The redhead smiled. "He said there are no easy answers. That there were times when both parts vied for dominance inside him. But he _did_ tell me that when both sides were equally pressing, he would always go with his heart."

The major chuckled. "This sounds just like him. Thanks, Elliot."

"Everything for my sister's would-be-fiance."He grinned cheekily.

Christoph cleared his throat to hide his embarrassment. "You knew?"

"Fiona isn't nearly as sneaky as she wishes to be."

"I admit I didn't understand the general's decision to send you to Odins back then. But he proved again to see more deeply into the future than I could imagine. You've grown splendidly Elliot, especially as a man of character."

"Now you are just flattering me." He scratched his head. "But for what it's worth, Christoph, thanks for the heads-up. I will extend my trust to my fellow cadets, but if this month at Thors has shown me anything, it's the need to be prepared and cautious at the same time."

"You realize that both notions are contradictory?"

Elliot shrugged. "Sometimes we just have to live with the contradictions instead of unraveling them. Music even makes explicit use of this idea, you know?"

Christoph blinked. "I never thought of contradictions this way."

"Oh, and while we are at it, would it be okay to give Instructor Valestein a break?" Elliot smiled again, but this time there was a dangerous edge to it. "As you see, military protocol can't solve _everything_."

The major began to sweat a little. "After my own show of hypocrisy you are of course going to point this out, aren't you?"

"Class VII already has some conflicts brewing. You butting heads with Ms Valestein sets a bad precedent and only encourages the conflicts in class to continue. Leading by example goes both ways, doesn't it?"

"It shames me that I don't have a rebuttal for your argument." Christoph closed his eyes. He then opened them and faced him directly. "I'll try to keep an open mind in the future, Elliot."

They finally arrived at Cathedral Square, distracting both from their conversation. Elliot swept his gaze around, taking in the picture. The church building could be seen without any obstruction, revealing its entire splendor. It wasn't quite as large as the Heimdallr Cathedral, but then again, everything was larger in Heimdallr. The building looked more artistic though with stained glass windows glistening in all seven colors of Septium. The arches and towers were richer in details, the carved marble gilded with silver. They passed another artist who drew a fresco on the cobblestone ground using colored chalk. It was a still life motif depicting a bowl of fruit. An open-air piano on wheels stood beside one of six stone pillars. The musician rifled through sheet music while exited children ran around, their faces begging for the performance to start. He couldn't help but smile at the bust of activity, though his mind was still churning.

Elliot's happiest moments in life had always involved music. This he knew to be true. But on closer inspection, what also stood out was that he was never alone. His mother's gentle guidance, the playful rivalry with Fiona, dad being the adoring listener. There was his involvement with Odin's student orchestra. Crow pulling the strings in the background to make their performances one smashing success after another. The fostering of cooperation and friendship to create something greater than the sum of its parts.

There was something similar with Class VII here. There were times when the harmony between them was almost palpable and Elliot looked forward to the day when they would truly grow to become an orchestra of their own. It wasn't going to involve music, but as Instructor Valestein pointed out when she explained the ARCUS, they were supposed to be a fighting force that retained their individuality.

Much like a concert which involved the synergy of different instruments. With different melodies, tone registers and timbres, woven together into a comprehensive whole.

Of course there were currently dissonances in Class VII, contradicting personalities that clashed with one another. But as he explained to Christoph, instead of unraveling these contradictions or shoving the people through an uniform mold, the matter should be approached like a conductor:

Accept the contradictions as they were, emphasize them in a positive manner to take the music to even greater heights.

He needed to talk with Crow.

* * *

"The discoloration is due to acid in the rain," Emma explained. "Marble is technically just recrystallized carbonate."

Machias nodded. "This makes sense. But I wasn't aware rain is acidic in the first place."

The purple haired beauty twirled the tip of her thick braid. "Only slightly. Part of the carbon dioxide in the air reacts with atmospheric humidity to carbonic acid. The pH value is close to neutral, but over the centuries there is an effect on the buildings."

They looked at the artful structures of the Old Government District. Like everywhere else in the city, instead of the fabled white told in stories the buildings were shown to be a somber gray in color. It didn't detract from the gratuitous abundance, though Machias admitted that at least a few buildings were justified in displaying all the pomp.

Like the embassies for example.

He was nearby when Rean gave his little lecture to Laura. But while old history was nice and well, he thought it negligent he omitted how Saint-Arkh still played a crucial role in Erebonia's governmental structure today. While Heimdallr was for all intends and purposes the focal point of political institutions with nationwide influence, the Old Capital had it's own share of them. It was something that grew organically over the centuries until it was stipulated by Dreichels.

Another way to ensure separation of power.

The Remiferian and North Ambrian Embassies were found here as well as the ministry for education and cultural affairs. Machias looked to the side, just to come face to face with another big, official looking building. This one even had a dome on top. He squinted at the entrance until he found the placard that was placed beside a golden engraving of the Imperial Stallion: The Provincial Ministry of Finance, it read. The counterpart to Heimdallr's Central Ministry of Finance and one of Saint-Arkh's two heavyweight institutions. The other one was of course the Aulic Council, one of the two Supreme Courts of Erebonia.

When he made the decision to distance himself from the capital for a while, Machias considered attending the degree course offered by the Aulic Council. The focus of the Supreme Court in Heimdallr was contractual and civil law, but the parallel court here in Saint-Arkh was the uncontested authority on criminal law. Still, he ultimately decided against going here due to his mistrust of the nobility. He heard that the ruler of the Sutherland Province was the very opposite of a political hardliner. Marquis Hyarms was said to be a moderate politician, who fostered good relations with the central government departments which were smack dab in the middle of his territory.

But nobles were still nobles and the more powerful they got, the more rotten they tended to be. And in Erebonia, being the leader of one of the Four Great Houses was the pinnacle of aristocratic power. The Old Government district might be neutral ground, but the rest of the province certainly wasn't. And the last thing his dad needed was for him to become a political hostage.

The moment power and fame were achieved, the world ceased to be simple anymore.

"Machias, are you okay? You look tense."

He turned to Emma and showed her a weak smile. "It's nothing serious. It's just... the Provincial Army Soldiers make me nervous." The residential districts were refreshingly lacking in military presence, but the same couldn't be said here. Companies of soldiers patrolled the streets, marching in lock step, their gazes hard and intimidating. About half of them wore the familiar uniform of the Imperial Army, but the other half displayed the colors of their provincial lord as well as the trademark renaissance pickelhaube. Both groups gave each other a wide berth, but Machias saw how they occasionally glared at each other. At the same time the grip on their weapons tightened.

It was like a microcosm of the current political climate.

"I don't think the Provincial Army is going to cause us trouble." She smiled back reassuringly. "Thors seems to be known and respected around here."

Now that she mentioned it...

The looks the Provincial _and _Imperial Soldiers gave them were wary, but on occasion one of them offered a polite nod or even a short greeting. So very different from the condescending way the Heimdallr Military Police treated him and his former classmates, when they were still students at Odins. More troops passed them and Machias paid further attention to the way they reacted.

How surprising. The eyes of the soldiers often rested on the emblem they wore - the Horned Lion Crest that was exclusive to Thors.

He felt himself relaxing. "Thanks, Emma. I needed that."

"You are welcome", she replied cheerfully. Her smile blossomed into something truly sweet and Machias felt his heart skip a beat.

Stupid hormones.

He saw Emma looking to the other side, her gaze lingering on Remiferia's national emblem. It was a stag surrounded by green, red and brown. The flag on which it was emblazoned hung limply in the air, but the entrance to the embassy was bustling with activity.

"I always dreamed about traveling to other nations," she murmured. "An opportunity to see the reality of the land beyond the pages of a book." She twirled her thick braid again, but there was a somberness to her voice that Machias heard for the first time. "The vast area of Calvard, the famous gorges of Leman, Remiferia's snowy landscapes..."

There was an awkward pause and he struggled to come up with something to fill the silence. "Um, to be honest, I was always interested in visiting North Ambria."

"Really? I heard life there was harsh."

"I heard the same", Machias agreed, glad that the tone of their conversation returned to familiar grounds. "But I would like to confirm the details with my own eyes - beyond the pages of a book." They both chuckled and he pushed up his glasses. "Poverty is a strange thing, you know? It can bring out the worst in people, force individuals to violently compete against each other for the few scraps there are. And sometimes poverty brings out the best in people. It makes them band together. Instead of competing, they support each other to carve out new opportunities for survival."

She hummed in wonder. "I thought Heimdallr is the richest city in Erebonia."

"Well, if we talk about per capita average, then Ordis has us slightly beat." He scratched his head. "Bareahard isn't far behind either. The absolute income is indeed the highest on account of Heimdallr's big populace, but the riches are _unevenly_ distributed."

Emma blinked. "Of course... you have lived in one of the poorer districts?"

"Ost District. People who have a stick up their ass like to call it the Heimdallr Slum." Machias folded his arms. "I prefer to call it a district of true workers."

"You are proud of the place where you grew up, aren't you?", she mused. "Do you think that North Ambria might not be quite as destitute as hearsay make us believe?"

Trust her to catch on quick. "It's just a suspicion, mind you. Something I discussed with dad and an old teacher of mine. I mean, when the catastrophe struck the nation unaware, the situation was sure to be bad. But 25 years later? With the influx of foreign currency and the Septian Church's relieve measures, I cannot imagine the nation continuing to dance on a knife's edge. The poorest nation on the western side of the continent? I can believe that. But the way North Ambria is said to be a failed state might be something that is particular to Erebonian media."

"And why would the Empire have such a negative...oh!"

Machias frowned. "Yeah, it became a democracy after the Salt Pale incident. Before that, it was a Principality just like Remiferia and diplomatic relations were good. Then the populace kicked that disgrace of a Prince out after he fled the country with his tail between his legs. The people took power into their own hands after that. Erebonia, or should I say, the nobles didn't like that."

"Are you in favor of democracy?"

Machias watched her warily, but he soon calmed down when she didn't turn antagonistic all of a sudden. He had enough experience with political debates to know that they could become heated the moment certain words were dropped.

"As a Reformist, father wants to see the nobility abolished. But the political process cannot stop there. Something has to fill the resulting power vacuum, doesn't it? Erebonia is a massive nation and governing it from one centralized location is inefficient. So why not substitute the current Four Great Houses with democratically elected Provincial Parliaments?"

Emma tilted her head. "This system sounds similar to the Liberlian one. The position of the Imperial Family would be untouched?"

He nodded. "Absolutely. According to dad they are great people and do very good work. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. Just because I see myself as a Reformist doesn't mean I want political change for the sake of it."

She lowered her head. "You are amazing Machias. You have put a lot of thought into this topic, haven't you?"

He cleared his throat. "I guess? Ehm, thanks, really."

She giggled. "You are welcome."

They walked in amicable silence until they finally reached their destination. Machias let out a sigh of relief. His feet were starting to ache.

The Aulic Council wasn't quite as big as he imagined it to be. Compared to the Imperial Supreme Court in Heimdallr, the building was smaller in scale. And just like the general trend in Saint-Arkh it looked more artistic and delicate despite the squarish outline. It was a curious mix of utilitarian and opulence.

Once they entered, an intelligent looking young man with glasses and teal hair welcomed them. The man introduced himself as Celestin and had the bearings of a highly trained servant. Instructor Valestein seemed to recognize him, but she didn't comment. Shortly after, he directed their group with the ease of someone who did it for a living. They first went to a storage building in the west wing to unload the hauler as well as their gear. After that they were led to the quarters of Veteran Affairs, which was located at the east wing. Once there, they finally got an opportunity to rest their feet.

While they unpacked the rest of their equipment Celestin provided refreshments. Bagels stuffed with ham and cheese as well as some local pastries called krapfen and apple strudel. They were also served tea. Machias would have preferred a cup of coffee, but he was too thirsty to care. Compared to what he imagined their accommodations to be this was downright luxurious. He was also glad that their rooms were divided between women and men.

Shortly after, their group met in the hallway to continue the field study.

"Now that the logistic stuff is done, who are we going to meet?" Sara asked.

Celestin bowed gracefully. "A very astute question, Lady Valestein. Usually, to allow your class free reign of movement across the province requires the approval of the highest ranking official present. Unfortunately, Lord Hyarms is busy preparing for the Imperial Provincial Council convening in Bareahard." Machias saw his Lordship perk up at these words. "Council Chancellor Linquist is on an errand in the capital." The butler smiled at the many surprised blinks. The eyes behind his glasses twinkled. "Not to be confused with the Imperial High Chancellor of course. That leaves Chancellor Linquist's right hand. If you would follow me."

Their group elicited stares as they followed Celestin through the corridors. There was a lot of activity and Machias occasionally managed to sneak a peak into one of the neatly organized archives with endless rows of case files.

The office they arrived in was big enough to accommodate all of them. A mahogany desk dominated the room. Documents, writing utensils and paraphernalia were arranged on the polished surface in an ordered, even beautiful manner. It didn't look worked in unlike the overloaded desk of Instructor Herschel's granddaughter. There was a female assistant standing on the side of the table, a mousy looking woman with glasses. Her hair style, if it could be called such, looked suspiciously like bed hair. Her facial expression on the other hand had an absent minded look as if her mind was a thousand selge away.

It unnerved him a little, to be honest.

As for the individual behind the desk...

Machias had seen her before. Not in person, but in magazines and the odd article of the Imperial Chronicle. The photographs didn't do the woman justice, for they neither captured the piercing Esmelas of her eyes nor the commanding presence she exuded.

"Greetings, Thors Officer School Class VII. Major Neithardt, Celestin...", she inclined her head, a strange glint in her eyes. "And of course our stray A-Rank Bracer." She smirked and Machias found himself looking between the two women. There was a strange tension building up. And did she just say A-Rank? Rean already figured out her past profession, but none of them realized their instructor was this highly placed. "My name is Helena Freising, Imperial State Attorney at your service."

She inclined her head and their group greeted her back in unison.

"My superior is out at the moment so that makes me the one in charge. As such, I have the honor to approve your special operations and deliver your field study tasks." She leaned back into her seat and tented her fingers. "Well, I hereby grant you my blessings and as for the tasks...Dorothee, if you would?"

"Of course, ma'am." The mousy looking assistant shuffled away to a side room. Machias only saw a fraction, but it looked far more chaotic than the office they were currently in.

He turned his head back to the woman sitting before them, his emotions doing flip-flops between regret, excitement, admiration and sheer joy.

Helena Freising, the ace prosecutor of the Aulic Council. Beside her impeccable track record of high profile cases, she was also a prolific writer of academic articles published for the legal sciences. Erebonia's judicature had been waning in their influence for many years now. Too much corruption and favoritism towards the noble class. Too many scandals unveiled, which was ample justification for the central government under Chancellor Osborne to gradually restrict their range of responsibility. However, the Aulic Council was making a comeback as an institution, their prestige slowly returning to its former height.

It could be argued that this comeback rested on the shoulders of this amazing person. While he had occasional doubts about his Thors attendance, this first field study and the opportunities it presented more than made up for the sometimes frustrating military curriculum he had to endure.

"While we are waiting for Dorothee, I hope you don't mind that I catch up with an old friend." She focused her attention on Instructor Valestein. "So Sara, how's the life of a teacher treating you?"

"It's pretty fulfilling", she responded airily. "I have a class full of bright kids."

Ms Freising chuckled. "My, is this pride I'm hearing?" She glanced around. "You must be a pretty outstanding group. Sara doesn't impress easily."

Major Neithardt cleared his throat. "I'm frankly surprised that my... fellow instructor is familiar with an important person like you, your Excellency."

The prosecutor held up a hand. "Please, none of that 'Excellency' crap. I was born a commoner, so being assigned such fancy titles makes my skin crawl. Besides, I may be the right arm of the Council Chancellor, but that doesn't make me the Vice Chancellor. So major, your appellation isn't correct anyway." She leaned forward and rested her chin on her folded hands. Suddenly, her mouth formed into a cheshire grin. "Let me guess... this is your minder, right Sara? The guy who was assigned the thankless job of reigning in your escapades."

Their female instructor shrugged helplessly. "Got it in one, Helena. You may pity me now."

"The only thing worth pitying is your lack of a love live."

"Pot calling the kettle anyone?"

"Oh, haven't I told you?" The state prosecutor smirked. "I got a date set up with an older gentleman. Forty-five, soft spoken, some gray in his hair and a connoisseur of Legram Brandy."

Instructor Valestein bristled. "You didn't!"

"Oh, I certainly did. Seems like I'll be the one to win our little competition." Ms Freising leaned back in her chair again and smiled like the canary that ate the cream. "Don't think I'm going to let you keep your head start just because you got the opportunity to flirt with Cassius Bright."

There was a mounting horror growing on Major Neithardt's face.

Jusis Albarea looked dumbstruck.

Fie rolled her eyes.

Rean and Laura looked intrigued.

The rest of the class seemed confused except for Gaius who took the surreal scene in stride.

Cadet Claire scribbled in her notebook.

Machias, meanwhile, felt something die inside him.

Instructor Valestein was balling her fists and looked like she was about to lunge at the woman across the desk. Fortunately, the assistant returned with two big envelopes before the situation escalated.

The mousy young woman seemed completely oblivious towards the thick tension inside the room, puttering around the mahogany desk like she didn't have a single care in the world. "And here we go, ma'am." She put down the sealed envelopes in front of State Attorney Freising.

The woman cleared her throat and recovered her posture as if the verbal altercation didn't happen at all. "Back to business then. The content of the envelopes are identical, but I thought it prudent to prepare two copies given how big your group is." Her smile was warm now, lacking the antagonistic edge she displayed when talking to their instructor. "Don't be shy, cadets. These are for you."

Rean and Laura were the first to step forward. After they broke the seals which displayed the Sutherland coat of arms, each of them revealed a thick leaflet made of high quality paper. Their class split into two equal groups and clustered around the swordfighters to read what their tasks were about.

Machias blinked several times after he skimmed through the contents.

"These tasks don't strike me as appropriate for a military exercise." His Lordship's voice was acerbic, but once again he didn't found it in him to disagree.

"The missions seem kind of mundane?" Elliot half spoke, half asked.

Fie folded her arms. "Typical Bracer work." Murmurs started to swell in response to her terse statement.

"I can understand some of your doubts cadets, but please consider that the Thors faculty has recognized these missions as suitable for you." Machias was surprised. To think Major Neithardt of all people came to the defense of this program.

Both Rean and Laura turned to each other. Some silent communication seemed to pass between them. After that they both nodded as one. The noble swordswoman was the first to speak up. "Our tasks might seem mundane. Perhaps some of you even think them inappropriate or beneath you." She raised her voice, adding a note of earnestness and passion. "But consider the name of our particular exercise: a study in the field. A field called Saint-Arkh." She smiled.

"What do we really know about this place? Perhaps some facts gleaned from the pages of history? The best places to do some sightseeing? The most popular cultural attractions?" She shook her head. "But we are no mere tourist. We are not here on vacation. This kind of shallow knowledge doesn't qualify as a true study."

Rean stepped to the middle of their group. "Some of you are already aware of my side activities at Thors. Some of you...", and here he looked at Alisa and Gaius, "are even aware that my current side-activities are just a continuation of what I did during my time at Baldurs. A lot of people like to dismiss it as errands. Personally, I like to call it community work. And that is really the point. Saint-Ark is the Old Capital, Erebonia's center of fair arts, the residence of the Hyarms Marquisdom... but most of all, it's a community. A network of human relations, activities and bonds that can't be captured by rote numbers or dry facts."

He balled his fists and his voice became even firmer. "The tasks here might seem random, but consider the clients: The archbishop of Saint-Arkh Cathedral. The proprietor of a big convenience store, probably the biggest in the city. A baron who is most likely the inventor of the unique bicycles we have encountered on the streets. A physician from Remiferia who works at Veteran Affairs, but who is likely also associated with her country's embassy. The arts instructor of Forsetis Military Academy - I could go on."

He let the words sink for a moment.

"All these clients are connected to places which serve as pillars of this community called Saint-Arkh. And if we want to gain a deeper understanding of our Field Study location, deeper than mere tourists, contributing something is a good way to start."

Machias blinked. Looking from this angle made the missions look much more reasonable. Things like the Remiferian doctor did stand out to him, but he didn't make the connection with the embassy nor the bigger picture.

"You speak from experience," Jusis mused. "Both of you."

The two swordfighters nodded.

"Guess I shouldn't be surprised you two are the first to realize the underlying purpose." Instructor Valestein sauntered in-between them and mock glared at Rean. "And you certainly know how to read between the lines, Mr Wunderkind. My initial estimation was that both Laura and you would catch up after the first day, not the moment you broke the envelope seals."

State Prosecutor Freising laughed. "I can already see that this group might be a little too talented for even you to handle, Sara." Her gaze roved across them. It rested for a moment at the swordfighters, before it wandered again to zoom in on his Lordship and to Machias' surprise on himself.

He felt his heart skip a beat again.

Their instructor smiled wickedly. "Okay kids, feel free to assemble yourselves around these two reliable classmates. Form two teams or tackle the tasks as one big group. Try to solve everything on the list or just do the mandatory ones. You can do whatever you think is best."

All of Class VII looked at Major Neithardt who sighed.

"No, I'm not still going to contradict Instructor Valestein. The exact way to go about your tasks is part and parcel of the learning experience. Class VII, more than any other program at Thors, requires you to take independent action in a swift, decisive manner."

Before they could proceed with their task allocation, they heard a frantic knock at the door.

"Come in!"

The person literally burst through the door. Machias was surprised to recognize him. It was Hibelle, an Odins alumnus and the former leader of the academy's orchestra before Elliot took the reigns. He glanced to the side and saw the redhead's recognition written on his face.

Quite a small world.

"There's an e-emergency, Lady Freising." He gasped for air. Just as he was about to continue he stopped and gasped again as he realized the familiar faces among them. "Elliot? Machias?"

The state prosecutor politely cleared her throat which brought back his focus. "Sorry, let's catch up later." Hibelle straightened himself." There's a problem with the special shipment from the capital. There was a distress signal send through the semaphore line on the Northern Highroad. Alert level orange. A nearby garrison has dispatched a single platoon of soldiers, but I fear it's too little given the gravity of the warning."

The tension in the room became palpable once more.

"I wasn't aware semaphores are still being used here in the Province," Major Neithardt mused. Machias wasn't familiar with the term, but if their other main instructor considered it worth noting, it had to be something important.

"They were successively reinstated after _that _incident two years ago," Prosecutor Freising drawled. "No matter. Thank you for your report, Hibelle. Given the current situation, it doesn't surprise me that they send out such a small force. The Provincial Army is stretched thin right now, but a single platoon could as well end up with good soldiers getting killed."

"Is this special shipment something that pertains to _that_ case?"

The state prosecutor sighed. "Yes it does, Sara."

"How about requesting reinforcement from Dreknor Fortress?" Major Neithardt suggested.

"I'm loathe to go for this option due to the sensitive nature of the contents being transported. You see major, the ones doing the shipment belong to the Provincial Postal Service. Besides, we need a quick solution and Dreknor's chain of command tends to be... ponderous." She tented her fingers. "Sara, as their combat instructor, do you consider your cadets battle ready?"

"I never told you I taught them combat."

The prosecutor rolled her eyes. "As if Thors would hire you for anything else but your stupidly overwhelming fighting prowess."

"Hey, I resent that remark. Buuuut I guess the kids here are pretty good. Including me and the major our group would eat an average platoon of soldiers for breakfast."

"Strong words. In this case, I formally add the following Special Request to your Field Duties. Class VII, reinforce the Provincial Army to resolve a level orange alert and recover a high priority shipment." She took a deep breath. "You may not like what I'm going to say next. We don't know the exact nature of the threat and there's the possibility that the platoon can handle it all by themselves. But just in case, I order you in my function as state prosecutor to prioritize the preservation of the shipment over saving lives. Do you understand?"

Machias blinked. He didn't expect a genuine life and death mission to just fall into their lap. And he certainly didn't expect Prosecutor Freising to give them such a cold-blooded order.

"This is quite a thing to ask of a Bracer." Instructor Valestein's tone lost any hint of playfulness, her voice so cold it send a chill down his spine.

"But you are also a provisional officer right now, aren't you?"

"First Lieutenant in fact," Major Neithardt added.

"I see... well, First Lieutenant Valestein, cadets of Thors Officer School Class VII, you have your orders. Your response, please?"

"Acknowledged, _ma'am._" It seemed like their combat instructor had to grind out the words.

"Cadets?"

Several of them visibly swallowed, but in the end following orders was the core tenet of military life. "Yes ma'am!"

"Excellent. Hibelle, Celestin, ready the fastest horses available!"

"Cadets," Major Neithardt bellowed. "Back to your rooms. Prepare your weapon's loadout!"

"Yes, Sir!"

* * *

Fie didn't expect much when the Field Study started. Sara already hinted at the nature of their missions - namely lame Bracer errands - so she pretty much expected what they were served. At least there wasn't any task for finding missing pets.

What she didn't expect was a potentially dangerous combat situation. Or riding a horse. Truth be told though she was just a hanger on. Rean was the one doing the actual steering, forcing the black stallion to maintain a punishing gallop.

She soon caught on to the trick that riding was more involved compared to passively sitting inside a vehicle. There was a steady rhythm to the animal's movement. The best thing to do was aligning her own body to the pulsating contraction of horse muscle.

It also gave her the excuse to cling to Rean. She wasn't surprised, but it was nice to confirm first hand that his abs were as rock-hard as she thought them to be.

Their makeshift cavalry squad passed a pair of semaphore towers. Fie squinted her eyes and indeed, they were in pristine condition unlike two years ago when Zephyr was operating in Sutherland during the Guild Bombing Incident.

She was quite familiar with semaphores which were sometimes called optical telegraphs. They predated orbal phones as a method of long distant communication and even today, they were still utilized in some rural areas. And sabotaging these means of communication was the bread and butter of what Zephyr Missions often entailed.

Her former corps was something of an odd duck among Jaegers, because they had comparably few members. There were missions that required bigger troop numbers in which case they subcontracted lesser ranked Jaeger corps to fill out the quota. What Zephyr specialized in though were squad sized operations of elites with different weapon specializations who operated deep behind enemy lines to perform surgical strikes on critical targets.

It didn't escape her notice that Class VII was designed along similar lines.

Gaius cried out a warning. Fie peeked out from behind Rean's back and saw a mass of big two-legged birds swarming around a horse drawn carriage that was protected by an encirclement of Provincial Soldiers. One look was enough to determine that the situation was bad. The protectors were outnumbered, surrounded and there was a steady stream of monster reinforcement coming out of the woodwork.

"Well, our mission objective looks to be in a tight spot. Any tactical suggestions?" Sara shouted, slowing her mount to a trot. Their whole group followed suit.

Laura was the first to speak up. "We form three teams. Gaius, Jusis and me on horseback. The instructors, Rean and Fie as infantry. Machias, Alisa, Emma and Elliot as Arts support. The cavalry serves as the vanguard to break a hole into the monster encirclement, the infantry widens the gap for the Arts Support to traverse safely. After that both groups reinforce the protective circle to stiffen their defense."

"I'll be part of the cavalry," Major Neithardt added. "And after the riders break the encirclement, we will stay outside to interrupt the monster reinforcement."

"Sounds fine to me. Not the fastest way to kill the monsters and a tad risky, but it has the highest chance of saving lives and making sure the carriage stays undamaged." Sara tightened the reins again. "Okay, Class VII, knock up some heads and stay alive."

Fie observed the enemy monsters, their sharp claws, fast beak-attacks, the small wings. Typical flightless bird monsters called Ostriches, though their red plumage probably made them a subspecies. Dangerous against infantry units shorter than them, but their range of motion rendered them almost helpless against aerial attacks. Soft targets without armor.

She grinned and took out the Sapphirl tipped hollow point bullets. The cartridge was slotted it into her Jotun hybrid assault rifle.

Major Neithardt, Laura, Gaius and Jusis went into a gallop again, crashing into the encirclement like a lightning bolt. Blades, cross-lance and hooves tore into the Ostriches, felling six monsters in an instant. Fie, Sara and Rean followed soon after, jumping down from their horses shortly before enemy contact, their ARCUS links primed and ready.

Fie fastened the rifle at her back and drew the gunblades.

As the mental connections snapped shut, she brushed against the familiar consciousness belonging to Rean. It always felt strange, but even more so now that they were in the middle of a battlefield. His mind seemed like a vast plain, a smooth surface devoid of any blemish, ready to be painted and disturbed by anything. But there was the inkling of turmoil hiding beneath that surface. Something big and powerful. Something disruptive.

A technique manifested in her consciousness that felt foreign and familiar at the same time. Air gathered around them both, caressing their bodies with deceptive gentleness.

She was the first to charge, the wind tunnel trailing in her wake enabling the swordsman to match her speed as he followed her closely. They were a gale, dashing past seven monsters in a zigzag, hamstringing their legs in an instant. Sara placed herself between the crippled monsters, her semi-automatic Gram Pistol spitting the infamous lighting rounds, shocking each monster the moment Rean and her finished their cut and dash. In the blink of an eye seven monsters were collapsed on the ground, shrieking in pain as high voltage ravaged their bodies. Beaks and wings flapped pathetically as if they were puppets with their strings cut.

Alisa, Machias, Emma and Elliot hurried through the opening while the riders fanned out in two teams of two, widening the gap in the encirclement further with mighty swings of their weapons, their mounted position perfect to attack the heads of the bird monsters.

The Provincial Soldiers made room for them, their movements disciplined and efficient. Elliot cast a wide area Breath Art and Emma assisted with another area spell, providing their group with a collective Adamantine Shield. Alisa took out an arrow with a thick metal tube at the tip and fired it upwards in the air. The arrow head burst apart with an explosion, raining down liquid flames on a cluster of monsters, setting them on fire. Like clockwork she drew out another arrow of the same making, repeating her short-range mortar fire to buy the Provincial Soldiers precious seconds to reload and counter-attack.

She swapped her Combat Link and forged a connection with Machias while Rean paired up with Sara. Fie holstered her gunblades and cocked the assault rifle, bracing herself for the kickback. The world turned into stark relief as she released a three-round burst, the bullets leaving billiard sized holes on the elongated neck of an Ostrich.

The sound of her shots drowned out the noise coming from the mundane orbal rifles and bayonets. The smell of gunpowder tickled her nostrils. Despite her preparatory stance the recoil was painful. She felt a smile creeping up her face as she locked on another target. Quite a beasty gun. It was everything a girl could ask for.

For the next tense minute both her and Machias fired their assault rifles in tandem, alternating between suppressive fire to pin the monsters in place and three-shot bursts to finish them off. She could sense her classmates nervousness at the outer edge of her consciousness, but he had it under control and he took action with only minimal hesitation.

Seemed like the skirmish earlier with the Rhinociders already had an effect on him - like stiffening his backbone.

Their cavalry stayed on the periphery of the monster encirclement to avoid friendly fire, either luring outer-most monsters away to hack them down or intercepting Ostriches that continued to emerge from the nearby woods.

Fie reloaded and continued her shooting, the special bullets of her assault rifle massacring the birds. The tide of battle was turning in their favor, but her instincts were still as tense as a coiled spring.

_Always listen to your gut, Fie. _

When it came to battlefield advice the Boss had never steered her wrong. She focused her senses, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

She didn't have to wait for long. A piercing shriek resounded from within the woods and moments later a gigantic Crimson Ostrich broke out of the undergrowth. While the regular version was about three arge tall this new specimen towered over its brethren with being almost double as tall and five times as massive. Fie felt the earth vibrate just like with the Rhinociders. Machias and Elliot elicited a yelp and even the morale of the Provincial Soldiers faltered again.

Another piercing shriek that made her ears ache. A red glow went over the two dozen normal-sized Ostriches still alive and seconds later they renewed their offensive with desperate ferociousness.

Fie switched to suppressive fire alongside Machias to keep the deluge at bay, the bullet casings being ejected like so much small change. Even then the onslaught opened up a hole in their defense. She saw from the corner of her eyes how one of the soldiers lost the protection of his Adamantine Shield, the Ostrich ready to tear him apart. Rean and Sara were busy on the opposite front and Alisa's shot was to weak to stop the monster cold.

Fie aimed and pulled the trigger, but her rifle only spit out a single bullet instead of the three-shot burst she counted on. Frustration erupted inside her as she didn't have the time for a reload, but she suppressed the emotion and charged.

The core rule the boss laid down: Always protect your comrades on the battlefield.

Fie treated the barrel of her rifle as a makeshift spear tip, ramming several hundred degrees of piping hot metal into the creature's eye socket. She landed in front of the defenseless soldier, kicked the bayonet he dropped into her own hand and thrust it straight into the monster's heart followed by a point-blank shot.

Three enraged Ostriches made it in front of Machias, attacking the opening she created, but a second later the cavalry arrived. Gaius was like a mobile guard tower, his cross-spear exchanged for his composite bow. He weaved artfully through the birds while raining green wreathed arrows across the entire battlefield. Heads and necks were punctured with frequency, but he topped that off as he halted the three looming monsters by burying arrows inside all six legs in the span of a few seconds - shot from a moving mount no less.

Then Major Neithardt descended upon the birds like a demon of carnage, wielding a Cutlass shotgun in one hand and his military saber in the other. Heads were cleaved open and bodies shredded by hollow point buckshots. After that, a cyan colored glow illuminated their group. Emma was preparing a large scale art with Elliot doing some kind of harmonizing through an ARCUS Link that was actually visible in its glow. Seconds later two incandescent balls of fire fell down from the sky in a vortex motion until they collided in a massive detonation of fiery death.

Walls of Earth rose protectively in front of their group courtesy of Alisa and Machias. However, the Ostriches had none of the protection. Three of them burned up to cinders in an instant while about a dozen were blasted to the ground by the shockwave, their plumage incinerated to a crisp.

Fie looked to the other side of the battlefield. There were only a few stragglers left. The gigantic boss Ostrich was tied down by Jusis and Laura who alternately drew its attention and made it walk in a circle. She drew her gunblades.

Time to end this.

She jumped to the top of the horse-carriage. A second wind assisted jump followed as she flew above a lone Ostrich. Then a drop thrust with her gunblades, straight through the eyes. A shot each to finish it off and then she was flying again using the head of the dying bird as a jumping platform.

Rinse and repeat. Fie vaulted another three times, terminating the birds each time until she catapulted herself above the head of the lead Ostrich.

This time she fired a few rounds in mid-air, mere provoking shots. And just like she thought, the monstrous bird looked up to her and opened its ginormous beak.

So predictable.

She quickly holstered the gunblades and loosened her bandolier full of high-ex grenades. With a sweeping motion all of them were primed and using the momentum of a mid-air twist Fie hurled the cluster of explosives straight into the open maw of doom.

A short activation of her ARCUS to cast an Air Blast, changing her flying trajectory just as the giant Ostrich snapped at her. She dodged the beak attack effortlessly and stopped her descension by ramming her gunblade into the face of the monster, stopping her momentum while carving up its flesh.

_Three_

Fie drew the other gunblade and began to move down the monster's enormous neck by using the weapons as improvised climbing picks. Instead of running, each step downwards was a hacking attack. She twisted her body repeatedly to maintain momentum for another bite of her weapon, turning herself into a tornado of pain.

_Two_

She descended in a spiral, leaving countless puncture wounds in her wake, her motions always adjusting to the jostling of the giant body she was mauling.

_One_

Fie jumped on the back of the monster. From there she moved down to the ground. At the same moment there was a series of dull bangs. Blood shot out from all directions like a ripe tomato being squashed. Chunks of gore loosened themselves as the puncture wounds along the neck became aggravated from the explosions that went off inside.

The giant Ostrich was lurching, its whole body shuddering in pain. Seemed like bombing the inside of the neck destroyed its voice. Jusis took advantage of the opportunity and cast Judgement Bold to pin it down with the paralyzing effect of the Art. Streams of stroboscopic lightning bolts arced across its body, eliciting even more violent shudders.

Then there was Laura charging at the monster. Her sword was enveloped in the brilliant light she used during the fight against Sara, extending the reach of the weapon. Shortly before she reached her mark she moved to a standing position atop the saddle and jumped from there.

A rising slash, the movement beautiful in its smoothness and efficiency. The cut was so clean that it took several seconds until the decapitated head slid down, landing on the ground with a thump. Fie narrowed her eyes. Something was strange with the head that laid only two arge beside her.

Nah, it wasn't important.

She released the tension inside her body and exhaled. The battle high was still running through her body, adrenaline still coursing through her veins, but all good things had to end somewhere. She took out a tissue and wiped the blood from her weapons before holstering them. It was just some superficial cleaning. In the evening she would have to do a more thorough job.

The boss monster finally toppled to the ground, shaking the earth. However, Fie didn't pay it any heed. Her gaze was searching until she found what she was looking for: Amberl colored eyes framed by a beautiful face and aquamarine locks. She didn't dare reach out with an ARCUS link or start a conversation, but she couldn't help but wanting to search for something - anything.

Laura's expression was stiff and closed off, though she didn't avert her eyes. Then a nod. A curt show of respect from one warrior to another. A distant gesture, but still better than pure rejection. Fie returned the nod.

She could live with that.

"The two of you continue to impress," Jusis murmured as he flicked the blood from his sword and turned to her. "That aerial attack sure was reckless though."

To her surprise, Laura was the one to answer. "It was the most pragmatic approach. These birds are at their most dangerous when attacking prey on foot, especially if said prey is shorter than they are."

The big, important noble looked between them with a raised eyebrow. "Well, I'll take your word for it then. Let's go back. I'm curious about exactly whom and what we protected."

"Agreed," Fie concurred.

Post battle preparation was already in full swing. The soldiers provided first-aid for the wounded with Elliot and Emma assisting. The Provincial Officer and leader of the platoon was talking animatedly with Sara, Neithardt, Rean as well as a woman in some official looking attire. She narrowed her eyes. Petite, bright orange hair, stacked. Beauty mark on the left cheek, green eyes. She didn't saw this woman during the battle, so she was most likely hiding inside the horse carriage until now.

Fie heard a cry coming from the gaggle of soldiers standing around the wounded. Elliot looked stricken and Emma was covering her mouth with both hands, her body shaking like a leaf. Machias stood beside her and placed a consoling hand on her shoulder. His expression could be described as miserable. Fie looked closer and saw one motionless body covered in more blood than the others. Wounds on liver, ribcage and both thighs. She grimaced.

No guesses what happened just now.

"One of my men didn't make it," the Provincial Officer exploded. "Even more reason to investigate just what in Aidios name has happened."

"I don't care about this freak accident!" The woman shouted. "Just take me to Saint-Arkh. The faster the better."

"Lady, it seems all the corpses lying around didn't clue you in so I'll spell it out for your real clearly..." Sara was drawling, but there was an unmistakable edge in her voice. "Our combined forces just killed over forty Crimson Ostriches plus one boss monster. These things aren't your everyday poms. They can easily rip an average human to shreds in mere seconds. Our ammunition and Orbal energy is spent. Our horses are exhausted, because we almost rode them into the ground trying to reach your position in time. And as my cadet here," she gestured towards Rean, "just pointed out, there's the possibility this 'freak accident' isn't accidental at all."

She planted herself in front of the woman who alternated between indignation and fear. "We _will_ regroup and recover first. I'll be damned before I order my cadets to move out while exhausted and spent only to cater to your irrational whims - big shot official or not. If you have a problem with it, take it up with Prosecutor Freising."

"First Lieutenant Valestein, please be more careful with your tone."

"What, major? Was there anything I said about our current troop condition that you disagree with?"

"Well, no. But you could have worded it more diplomatically."

The orange-haired woman sighed deeply. "Seems like you are all of the same opinion then. Well, I'll leave combat to the professionals I guess. I've dealt with enough military types to be aware that you always believe to know better." She turned around in a huff and entered the horse carriage, shutting the door with an audible slam.

The Provincial Officer cursed under his breath. "What an unpleasant woman. To think one of my men lost his life over someone like her."

"Let's call her a stuck-up, entitled bitch and leave it at that. I hope that whatever she's carrying is more important than her personage." Sara shook her head. "I suggest you take care to rally your troops, Unterfeldwebel Dorn. We'll deal with on-site investigation. The moment we find something, you'll be the first to know."

The man nodded. "Thank you again, First Lieutenant." He saluted despite belonging to a different branch of the military. "Major, cadets of Thors, you do your reputation justice. Without your aid, this situation would have become very ugly. Now if you'll excuse me. My soldiers need me."

Fie noticed that Instructor Neithardt didn't call out Sara for her insults once that self-important official was out of earshot.

"May I ask what happened just now?" Jusis' tone was carefully neutral.

"Weeell, I'll let our Wunderkind here explain the problem - and your next task. I'm tired."

Rean pinched the bridge of his nose. "I really wish you to stop calling me Wunderkind, instructor."

"Don't be a spoilsport." Sara turned towards Instructor Neithardt. "Coming major? Let's patrol the perimeter for now. The kids are bright enough to do the investigation on their own."

The major followed her with the pained expression of man resigned to his fate.

"So Rean, what is our next task supposed to be?" Laura asked.

The black haired swordsman scratched his head. "Well, to begin with look at the Orbal Lights."

All of them did as he told. Fie saw Alisa standing beside one of the orbments, fiddling with some contraption connected to her ARCUS while Gaius watched over her six. Otherwise she didn't saw anything noteworthy. All Orbal Lights were gleaming and the distance between them was the standard fifteen arge to prevent...

Wait a damn second.

She peered in both directions, but the sight didn't change in the slightest. Functional lights as far as the eye could see.

"The monster repelling function of the Orbal Lights failed completely," Jusis murmured. "Except this shouldn't be possible." All of them looked around the field which was littered in corpses. "I heard of reports that the occasional monster slips through, but not to this extent."

"My point exactly," Rean acknowledged. "Right now Alisa is checking the Orbal Wave frequencies. According to her, the wavelengths that repel most monsters are outside the visible spectra. Sometimes, orbment failure is only partial and the lighting fails to emit the crucial wavelengths despite having visible luminescence."

Jusis shook his head. "This kind of technological failure is possible, but rare. We saw the way this mob of Ostriches moved. If there really is a non-functional Orbal Light, their pack should have funneled through that slight gap in the repelling field. But that's not the way it happened at all."

"I concur." Laura folded her arms. "They simply swarmed over the street and by encircling the horse carriage the monsters even ignored the lighting on the other side of the road. Looking at the size of the area, about seven to eight Orbal Lights would need to be non-functional. And seeing that their shine is visible, we would have seven lights exhibit a rare failure at roughly the same time."

"While all conveniently clustered together." Fie added.

Rean nodded morosely. "Only human tampering could explain this. But as long as Alisa is checking the wavelengths, there's something else we can do."

"We look if there's something wrong with the monsters themselves," Laura concluded.

"Dissection time," Fie deadpanned.

Jusis folded his arms. "Wonders never cease. To think Instructor Valestein's monster slaying lessons would end up becoming useful." He blinked. "Does anyone carry a spare Bestiary?"

"You can have mine." Rean took out a thick black notebook and gave it to the Albarea heir. "I'll inform the others. I'm pretty sure Emma has the entry we need memorized." He smiled weakly. "And even if she didn't, Machias most likely carries another copy."

"If there's anything more predictable than church service, it's Regnitz' obsession with books. And be delicate with her, Schwarzer. The death of the soldier has affected Ms Millstein most harshly."

"Thanks Jusis. I always knew you care." He smiled warmly. "I'll give Emma your regards."

"Now, if you would only start calling us by our given names..." Fie added.

"You, be silent! And Schwarzer, I never said anything about giving her my regards."

Laura placed a hand on his shoulder. "Jusis, I know you don't trust easily and I have an inkling where you are coming from. But even _you_ have to admit that the members of this class are most likely not concocting some base ploy to leverage your esteemed family name. After a whole month, it would behoove you to at least treat them as proper classmates. Refusal to do so strikes me as a slight against propriety."

The Albarea heir sighed. "And propriety needs to be observed." He balled his fists. "I didn't come here to make friends, but I can certainly accept you as acquaintances. Rean, Fie, Laura." He gave each of them a nod of acknowledgement.

Fie had to hold herself back from eye rolling. Is this what they called having a stick up the ass?

"If there's no trouble I would like to accompany you, Rean," Laura declared.

"Sure, follow me. Jusis, Fie, good luck with the investigation."

There was a pause between them once the two swordfighters were away. Fie was the first to break it. "Let's get to work."

"After you."

They didn't need to walk far to reach their first unburned corpse. Fie drew her boot knife, while Jusis looked up the relevant passage. He started to read aloud.

_Crimson Ostrich, subspecies of the Common Ostrich. Scientific name: Struthio gigantes rubris. They live in nomadic groups. Semi-nocturnal lifestyle. Omnivores. If fully matured (~3 arge tall, ~350 curim), they may attack with a fiery breath. Their migration cycle starts during fall and ends in spring. Strong resistance to fire arts and slight resistance to earth. Very susceptible to water._

He looked up. "The rest is about mating rituals and physio-anatomical details, but even this short list contradicts what we've encountered."

Fie nodded. "Semi-nocturnal, but it's the middle of the day during which they went on a rampage."

"Did you see any of the Ostriches breathe fire?"

"None."

"So there's definitely something wrong." He closed his eyes. "What did Instructor Valestein teach us again? Examine the eyes, mouth and extremities first, right?"

"Ja. I'll check the rest."

Fie bend down towards the body and took a whiff. There was the smell of blood, but even though the bowels were still sealed there was also the slight stink of excrement. She concentrated and breathed deeply through her nose.

Plumage, acidic sweat, the tang of fear. There was also the beginning of an odor that was painfully familiar.

Decay... and something else. Something that didn't fit.

She bend down further until her nose almost touched the feathers. Was this the salty smell of seawater?

"I've got nothing yet," Jusis spoke.

"I smell seawater."

"Is this common?"

"From a land animal? Besides, this one mutated through Fire Sepith."

Jusis narrowed his eyes. "What happens when a monster that is heavily reliant on one type of elemental Sepith ingests Sepith from the opposing element?"

Fie furrowed her brows. "Something bad. Sara explained the condition in class. It should be listed in the index."

"Thanks."

She stared for a while at the body, while Jusis skimmed through the pages. Then something else occurred to her. Fie ripped out a couple of bright red feathers, but as she looked closer at the base, there was the beginning of violet instead. She moved frantically to one of the monster's gigantic feet and jammed her knife into the base of a talon. After some fiddling, she levered out the claw. Then came the wiping to remove the blood and...

Yeah. For the most part, the claw was shimmering with the glow of Carnelia, but the base was again a startling violet.

"Interesting." Jusis was looking over her shoulder. "Microscopic Septium residue is deposited in collagenous structures - namely hair or nails. Or feathers and claws. Furthermore, violet is a mixture of red and blue."

"Found the passage?"

"Yes." He smiled thinly, but his voice had the ring of satisfaction. "It's called _Septochromatosis adversaris. _Symptoms include heightened aggression to the point of becoming rabid, loss of signature elemental abilities, disruption of wake-sleep cycle, miscarriage and in case of long exposure - systemic organ failure."

"Bingo." Fie tilted her head. "So these monsters were already weakened."

Jusis huffed. "If anything, I'm glad about this. If these beasts were at full power in addition to breathing fire... the casualties would be much higher."

"Or they would have wiped out the postal service before we even arrived - and burned whatever super-secret package they are transporting."

"True... shall we go back and convene with the rest of our class?"

She crossed her arms behind her back. Instincts continued to bug her. Something. They were still overlooking something.

"The boss monster. I saw something strange when Laura decapitated the thing."

He simply nodded. "Lead the way."

Fie had to admit that Jusis' no-nonsense attitude was growing on her. She hadn't interacted much with him until now and from what the Zephyr members told her, negotiating with high born nobles was one big pain. But perhaps she was being prejudiced.

Just like a certain blue haired swordswoman.

The massive head of the lead Ostrich looked at them accusingly, its expression frozen in a rictus of alien indignation.

Or so she imagined. She made a face at the monster head even though it was kind of silly, but sometimes a girl had to make her own fun.

Fie took care not to let Jusis see it of course.

"I hope you don't intend to take this abomination as a trophy."

"Tempting," she deadpanned. "But not what we're here for." Fie walked around the head once. Then she discovered the spot she noted before: a small patch of dirty brown on red plumage, located at the back of the neck at beak-height. Dried blood, at least several days old. She parted the feathers and revealed a poorly healed wound, the scab an amorphous piece of brown and black.

She drew a gunblade and plunged it straight into the wound. She picked inside with the weapon until there was a distinct kind of mechanical resistance. With a single flick of her wrist, she then carved out a cylindrical piece of flesh which fell to the ground with a wet splash. Some strategically placed cuts later revealed a small construct of jagged metal spikes that protruded in four directions.

"What in Aidios' name is that?" Jusis murmured.

"Caltrop bullet. This is its unfurled form. Once inside a body they are designed to inflict as much pain as possible."

The Albarea heir folded his arms and she felt dark emotions accumulating behind his facade of cool indifference. "In other words, we now have hard evidence that this freak monster attack was in fact manufactured and directed."

She closed her eyes. In truth, they knew even more. The attention to detail that went into the monster attack spoke of experience coupled with deep knowledge of monster lore. And there were only two professions with this kind of specialized knowledge, which was developed by Monster Slayer Guilds over the centuries.

And Fie doubted that Bracers were the ones responsible.

* * *

**Additional notes.**

**Unterfeldwebel: **To make the Provincial Army more distinct from the Imperial Army, I've given them the military rank structure of the German Heer. At first, I wanted to use the rank structure of the German Empire, but that one ended up too confusing for my taste. The Unterfeldwebel is roughly analogous to a Sergeant in the US military and when Class VII continues to meet Provincial Officers of different ranks, I'll continue to put the analogous US military rank in the explanation section.

**Hollow point bullet(HPB): **A real world bullet design with a hollowed out tip. When the bullet hits a target, the kinetic force deforms the metal tip which results in the projectile taking the form of a mushroom. As a result, this deforming effect of HPBs is even called 'mushrooming'. This bullet design has two main utilities. First of all, it prevents over-penetration which is a desirable trait in law enforcement. There is practically no chance for a HPB to pass completely through a human body and hit somebody else behind said human, or the window of a 50th story skyscraper, or the wall of an airplane. The second utility lies in the fact that HPB causes bigger wounds through the sideways expansion of the metal tip. This makes it attractive for hunting certain kinds of game, but there are situations when law enforcement considers it justified to use this increased stopping power on criminals. And as some of you have most likely guessed, HPBs suck against armored targets.

As for the Sapphirl tipped hollow point bullets, they work similar to the real world version except there are two stages of expansion. The hollow cavity of the bullet is filled with water and a small piece of Water Septium. When the bullet is fired from a hybrid firearm, the propellant is mundane gunpowder, while the orbal energy is used to activate the Sapphirl inside the bullet. This in turn energizes the water inside the cavity and once the bullet penetrates a target, the metal tip mushrooms just like a real world HPB, but the resulting pressure on the water combined with the elemental manipulation of the septium causes overpressurized water to shoot out radially around the deformed bullet tip, therefore increasing and aggravating the initial wound even further. As a result, using these bullets against human targets is considered illegal even by members of the military.


End file.
